


Ruling Powers

by NikkiTe



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF Philippines 20th-21st, Political RPF Philippines 21st
Genre: BasDro, BastexSandro, DuCosLove, I'm Going To Hell For This, M/M, RP69, RP69Fanfic, What am I doing, baste/Sandro, but they look cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 54,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6820489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiTe/pseuds/NikkiTe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the campaign trail for the 2016 National Elections, two relatively unknown political scions end up meeting each other. Baste Duterte and Sandro Marcos, coming from different backgrounds and families, meet and find out how similar and different they are from each other, and eventually fall in love. How will they maneuver their way through all the hurdles that come their way? From scandals, to political rivals, to media troubles, will they find a way to make it work?</p><p>____</p><p> </p><p>Election time in the Philippines is, and has always been, rife with accusations of cheating and scandals. But this year, for some reason, the sons of our presidential and  vice presidential candidates have become objects for slash fiction over Twitter. </p><p>It has only been two days since the election and here I am writing about my little fantasy. </p><p>This is a work of fiction and should not be taken as fact. i do not know the background of any of the public figures used in the fanfic except for those that are made public (Wikipedia). This is a work of fiction, please treat it as such.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Their Paths Will Cross

Being a grandson of a well known politician was one thing. Being the grandson of the most controversial presidents of the Philippines was another.  Having the last name of Marcos was as much a gift as it was a curse. 

Alexander Marcos, or Sandro as his parents call him, always looked up to his grandfather, whose painting his father always kept in in the living room of their home, and kept it in pristine condition. To him, his grandfather was a good man. He never met him, but he knew.

As a child, he didn't understand why none of his classmates wanted to become his friend. He didn't understand why he could hear the hushed whispers of their mothers whenever he was close. He felt unwanted, unneeded. And when he was old enough to start learning about Philippine history in school, he finally found out why.

His grandfather was branded a dictator by history. 

His elementary school teacher did not hide her hate for his grandfather, and found every reason to humiliate the young Marcos in the classroom. None of these reached his mother or his father. No, even as a child, Sandro was strong and he wanted to show that to everyone.

He kept a firm hold on his young heart, and did not let his emotions take the better of him. As a result, he excelled in his studies. And despite the fact that most of their parents didn't like him, his classmates slowly did take a liking to the young Marcos, who was smart and charming, and seemed easy to approach, not to mention that as time passed, his features became more and more appealing to the ladies.

But Sandro never had time for women. With his hands full trying to learn everything he could from school and the small community projects he had in their barangay, he never had much time for romance or any of that sort.

Sandro was a sponge for knowledge, so when the chance came for him to go on a scholarship in the United Kingdom, he didn't think twice about it. He sought the blessing of his parents, and when they allowed it, he left without a second thought. Philippine education was good, but he wanted more, much more, and he knew that he would gain that knowledge abroad. 

 

 

**

 

Sebastian Duterte never had the proper attitude to institutional schooling. He was  a problem student, in every sense of the word. He would get into fights with some classmates, and he would sleep in class. But all the teachers could give him was a warning because his grades proved to them that he was a really smart kid. 

Despite his attitude, the teachers couldn't punish a child who was doing well academically. 

Sebastian, or Baste as his family calls him, really wasn't meant for academics. Being such a "problem" child, one would expect him to get into gangs and be engaged in fights whenever school was over. But no such thing happened. In fact, the young Baste was often seen in public areas, helping children younger than he was, helping the elderly with the most menial tasks like crossing the street or lugging their cariton. Baste had a heart of gold, and perhaps that was one thing his father and his teachers saw in him, so they never scolded him despite his bad behavior in school. 

When he reached high school however, his father sent him to a school in Manila to try to get him more interested in academics. It worked somehow. Studying in  San Beda  did get Baste interested in Law somehow, because this was the same school where his big sis Sara gradated from the college of Law. Baste went back to Davao, seemingly a changed man. He took up political science in Ateneo de Davao and passed with flying colors. He even took the entrance exam for the San Beda college of Law. But his father Rodrigo didn't let him pursue the said course.

A father knew when a son was doing something he was passionate about, or was doing something he knew was the "proper" thing to do. Rodrigo didn't want that for his son. So he and Baste had a long talk after he received his letter of acceptance from San Beda Law school. Rodrigo's hunch was correct, and his son stopped pursuing Law from that night onwards, and from then on pursued his passion for surfing, working with recycling works, and outreach projects.

 

**

Baste yawned as he grabbed a towel by the rack and placed it on his head. He had just put away his trusty surfboard and was getting ready to get some dinner. It was 7pm, and like clockwork, the Duterte siblings always had dinner at this time, unless Sara or his father had immediate things they had to take care of in the city.

Baste smiled a bit as he started rubbing the towel on his dripping wet hair. Ah he had forgotten, his father was now even busier now than he was before. He had decided to run for president now after all, and things would surely not be the same anymore for this household. Win or lose, things would be very different here.

As he entered the dining room, his father and sister were both already seated around the table and had their eyes glued on the tv, where they were discussing about the upcoming elections.

"So, we have to go on the campaign trail soon huh?" Baste asked as he sat down on his spot by the table.

Sara looked at him and tsked. "Put on a shirt Baste."

Baste grinned and shook his head. "I didn't want to be late."

Sara sighed and shook her head. Then,"So, have you thought about it?"

"Thought about what?"

Rodrigo turned his attention away from the television too and raised an eyebrow at Baste. "Coming with me on the campaign trail."

Baste shrugged. "I already said that politics wasn't my thing."

"You won't be running for office. You'll just be there to help make things run smoothly for _tatay_ (father). It's more of a management thing than a political thing. You'll manage," Sara said as she made the sign of the cross, saying her grace before meals silently. 

Baste was quiet as he and his father followed his sister in saying grace. He only spoke again when they were finished. "But I have to manage the recycling business and ..."

"We can take care of that," Sara interjected him. "I cannot leave the city either. Would you rather act as interim mayor in my stead?"

Baste shook his head quickly. "Fine fine fine, I'll do it."

Rodrigo chuckled and raised his glass of water and clinked it to his son's glass that was sitting on the table still. "Win or lose, you'll enjoy it. It's going to be a good experience for you."

"I hope so," Baste sighed as he shook his head and raised his glass to do a small toast with his dad.

 

**

 

Baste squeezed out of his tiny seat and made his way off the plane, along with everyone else. The Duterte children always traveled like the common Filipino. Their father had raised them to live in service and to live as simply as they could.It was a lesson that stuck to all of them, and they practiced it as much as they could. If the common Filipino could not travel in business class, then they wouldn't either.

He walked down the path leading to the luggage area. There were no media personnel swarming is arrival in Manila. No one knew him, he had stayed under the spotlight long enough for them not to know of his existence. It was a good thing for him, it was easier to move around without the media always going after him right and left. He blended in, and that's the way he liked it. That was bound to change when he does join his father on the campaign trail. But it was a problem to solve for another day. He didn't want to think about it.

He got to the carousel as the other passengers started piling in, and he got his luggage when the carousel was almost empty. He casually made his way to the outside of airport to get a taxi. As he walked however, he noticed a look here and there. It was probably because of his lip ring? It always gave him a sort of bad boy look, kind of the image he wanted when he surfed. Maybe he should get rid of it when he went on the campaign trail? It might project a bad image for his father? This was why he hated politics, everyone looked for every small crack they could to get ahead of the race. It was low and very frustrating to see what people would stoop down to do.

Baste was so lost in his thoughts that he failed to see another man standing in his way, and as a result the larger bulkier Baste bumped straight into the younger man.

Baste let out a sharp curse, "**ta!" he cried out as he felt the full body hit. But then his eyes quickly zeroing in on the young man on his knees, probably knocked down by the impact. "Sorry," he grumbled quickly as he, on reflex, leaned down and took the boy by his arm, pulling him to his legs. "Didn't see you there."

The young man, who had fair skin, and a fresh mestizo look, plucked the earbuds from his ears and shook his head. "I didn't see you coming my way either, apologies from my end too."

Baste blinked. He had expected shouting and demanding of apologies, or maybe a cuss word here or there. But he didn't get any of those.

"Thanks for helping me up," the shorter man said with a smile, a very charming smile and Baste found himself staring.

"You normally don't thank the same person for knocking you down."

"But you thank the person who helped you up." The shorter male glanced at his lip and Baste wanted to roll his eyes. Ah the usual, he would see his lip ring, and then just assume he was a bad guy. "That lip ring looks cool. Did you have it done locally?"

Baste blinked. He hadn't expected that question. He reached out and his fingers brushed the cool metal on his lip. "Ah yeah, back home in Davao."

"Ah you're from Davao! I've never been there before!" And Baste could swear, he could see the shine in the other's eyes.

Baste chuckled and reached up to scratch the back of his head. "Yeah... it's a nice place. You should visit it sometime, it's pretty safe too, for a pretty boy like you."

Pretty boy? Well to be fair, the young man looked very nice. He had really fair skin, a nice charming smile, a slim build that was the total opposite to Baste's more bulky and muscular look. The other man was speaking to him in a  civilized manner, and he had to ruin it with his mouth. Great going. Was he really the right person for the job? He hadn't even started on the campaign trail and already he was running his mouth off.

"I heard that Davao is very safe. The mayor has done great work down there huh?"

And again, the other man didn't seem to jump on the worst that Baste gave and only focused on the good.

"He has. It's not the easiest job, but he did it so well."

"He did, and it's really amazing," the younger said. He was about to say more when a loud "Sandro!" was heard from the window of a sleek black land cruiser.

"Ah that's my ride," the boy said. He smiled at Baste and held his hand out. "It was nice "bumping" into you. Name's Sandro, Sandro Marcos."

Baste accepted the handshake and smirked. "Baste, Baste Duterte"

He felt the hand clasp his tighter for a bit and the younger male returned his smirk. "Duterte huh? I guess I'll see you on the campaign trail." And as the man turned around to walk to his ride, Baste finally had a clear view to the person who was sitting by the window seat of the land cruiser - Bong Bong Marcos.

His first day in Manila, and already this interesting huh?

 


	2. On the Campaign Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The campaigns begin, will Baste and Sandro meet again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not a politician, and I have no idea how actual campaigns go. Also, I do not know either families personally so I have no idea about how they actually act behind closer doors. Everything I write is a work of fiction, and should be treated as such. Thank you
> 
> ALSO, I have NO idea how to get to the Ilocos Region. The farthest I've gone north is Baguio city and that is a good 4-6 hour drive, so I assumed that Ilocos would be further up? I also have no sense of direction so.... OTL.

Baste had his hands full as soon as he arrived in Manila. It was as he had expected, and no, it wasn't as easy as his sister Sara had made it seem. Arranging things in Manila was so different from how it was in Davao. For one, no one here could speak his native Visaya! But at least he had a good command of Tagalog and English to get by without any problems. It was still a hassle though, and he would rather speak Visaya. 

He wondered how his father did it, speaking straight Tagalog. But then again, his father was a really amazing man. If even his opponent's children thought so. 

Well technically, Marcos, and the Marcos scions were not their direct competition, as Marcos was running for vice president and his father was running for president. Still, he thought that the Manilenos thought differently of his father. He thought they saw him as competition from the South, so to know that the Marcos boy... Sandro was it... thought that his father was a great man, it made Baste's heart swell. 

He knew that in his heart. But to be told that by other people, especially potential political rivals, it just validated what his father did. 

Baste could not help but smile at that. His father really was a great man and what he would do to follow in his footsteps. Also.... he vaguely wondered what Sandro was up to? The young man's Filipino accent was off in some ways, like he had been living abroad for some time. Maybe that was why he was at the airport? He also wondered if Sandro would be the one leading his father's campaign too... would he meet him again, maybe?

"Baste! Your head is in a cloud again!"

Baste grumbled as he nursed the back of his head. His father had just slapped his head to break him out of his daydream. 

"Tay," he mumbled as he nursed his head. "Nag iisip lang." (I was just thinking.)

"About what? Sexy ladies and surfing again?"

There was no mockery in his father'S tone, just the usual jab and Baste took it in stride. "About your campaign," he mumbled, which was half true. "I already got your schedule ready. Have you gone through it yet?"

Rodrigo nodded and fished out the copy that his son had given him earlier. "Do we really have to be in Ilocos the same time the Marcoses are going to be there? That's their home turf you know."

Baste shrugged. "You're not running against him so why would he speak ill of you?"

Rodrigo sighed and looked at his son as if he had lost his mind. "I'm not his running mate either. He gains nothing if he endorses me."

Again Baste shrugged. He was just running on instinct here, and hopefully he wasn't wrong. He remembered what Sandro said of his father and hopefully that was also similar to how the older Marcos thought of his father. "I think they hold you in high regard, so I don't think they'll speak ill of you. They haven't yet, have they? Despite of what your other opponents have already."

"Tsk, and the media is on their side too."

"Yeah, but I think Marcos won't sink that low, at least not in Ilocos. That's his home turf so there's no reason for him to destroy you there," Baste said as he considered the options and ran the scenarios in his mind. Of course he had thought about it. But schedule wise, they were bound to run into one or two other candidates during the campaign, and for him this one was the one with the least amount of risk. 

Baste saw his father's lips slowly turn up into a grin. 

"What?"

"You've thought about this haven't you?"

"Of course I have! Don't think that I just decided this on a whim!"

The Duterte patriarch let out a soft chuckle and reached out to ruffle Baste's hair, something he hasn't done in a long time. "That's my boy," he said, and Baste felt a blush on his cheeks. He could feel the pride oozing in his father's words.

*

The trip to Ilocos was long and arduous. There were no planes that traversed the distance between Manila to Ilocos, and if there was, he was sure that his father would turn it down. If there was a cheaper option, that would be the primary choice of his father, Baste knew. 

So they had rented buses to bring them on a twelve hour long trip to Ilocos. It was long and tiring and damn his ass hurt from sitting down too long. They had to do something about that bumpy highway when his father came into power. 

Setting up the buses for the campaign afterwards was even more tiring. They had arrived around 3 o clock in the morning, and the campaign would start at 7 am. Everyone had gone to take their naps, but Baste was still up. He had to make sure that the buses were filled with gas, that the tarps were up and secure. He had to make sure that everything would go on smoothly. 

So by the time, the campaign was on its way, Baste was already moving like a zombie. He tried his best to keep up, and he did. But it was very obvious that he was lacking sleep. By the time lunch time came, he was almost at his limit. 

Their campaign bus stopped at one of the local carinderias, a small local restaurant that was frequented by locals. It looked simple, the very thing his father always preferred. Even in his sleep deprived state, Baste noted that the Marcos campaign buses were parked in the fancy restaurant across the street. 

"Tsk, rich boys," he muttered as he followed his father and the rest of their campaign staff into the small carinderia. 

Upon entering, he already knew something was up. He could hear murmuring across the sea of people that stood in the tiny carinderia. He was about to ask what was wrong when he heard a loud "Digong! Kamusta kampanya?" (Digong, how is the campaign going?). 

Then he heard his father's chuckle. "Maayos naman Bong. Kayo?" (It's going well Bong, what about yours?)

Baste could feel his eyes widen. But before his jaw could drop, he heard a soft chuckle beside him. 

"And here I thought we could dine in peace here."

Baste blinked and looked at the source of that voice. There, standing beside him, unfazed by his bulk, was Sandro, who was nursing a cup of Salabat or ginger tea in his hands.

"But I saw your..."

"You saw our campaign buses and thought we were all there?" Baste could hear the amusement in the young Marcos' tone. "Our staff are mostly there. It's just me and my dad and his most trusted bodyguards who separated from the group. Mom wouldn't be caught dead in here. But this place has the best bagnet in the whole of Ilocos. So dad and I always make it a point to stop by here as many times as we can."

Baste stared. This. This was a Marcos? The same one that had robbed the country back then, the same one that bathed the streets in blood back in the 1970's and 80's? 

"It probably doesn't fit the Marcos family image huh?" Sandro asked as Baste stayed silent.

"Hey I didn't say..."

"You didn't have to, that's how everyone sees the Marcoses."

Baste blinked. It was a flicker, but he saw it. Sandro's eyes looked sad for a moment before it disappeared as quickly as it came. He let out a gruff laugh, to quickly hide his own discomfort at being so easily read. "Then it's up to you to change that right? What's done is done, what remains is what you can do to change how people see your name." 

Sandro's eyes turned to him, surprise in those deep depths. Perhaps he wasn't expecting these words from a political opponent. Then a small smile slowly formed and the younger Marcos chuckled softly. "I guess you're right."

Baste echoed his chuckle and shrugged. "I am, I always am."

"Pretty confident huh big guy?" 

"Just stating a fact. Never been wrong."

Baste eyed as their party slowly moved to take up seats in the tables. By now he could see his father and Sandro's father drinking beer and eating what looked like the best (and unhealthy) bagnet he had ever seen. 

Who cares? We only live once right? 

Suddenly he felt a warm hand wrap around his wrist, tugging him away. "Let's go find a table. Let's leave the politics to our fathers and we can have a peaceful lunch away from the limelight."

"Strange, you don't like the limelight?"

"Another misconception Mr Duterte," Sandro said with a chuckle as he led Baste to one of the tables located at the corner of the small carinderia. It was close enough for them to still see the elder Marcos and Duterte, but far enough that they wouldn't hear what was being talked about. "Lola loves the spotlight. I think Aunt Imee does too. Papa doesn't. I certainly don't. Otherwise you would have heard of me over the past 22 years that I've been alive."

"So you're 22?" Baste asked with a grin as he sat down on the small creaking chair. 

Sandro did the same, but Baste could see his ear was turning slightly pinkish. Bingo. 

"Don't be shy. I'm 28, and I already have two kids," he said with a laugh. 

He didn't miss the way Sandro'S hand paused over the menu. "Must be good to be married huh? Papa is already talking about an heir and I'm the name bearer of the family. He's Ferdinand Marcos II, and I'm III, so somehow, I need to follow in his footsteps, and maybe someday give him a Ferdinand Marcos IV."

Baste laughed again, trying to dispell the seriousness of the topic. "Nah, wet luck and live in partner. Don't think I'm the type to get married. As for having kids, why the pressure on you? I think it's best that the one kid who actually really wants to go into politics should be the one to continue your dad's legacy. For my family it's my sister. I'm not cut out for politics, and my other brother is soft. It's our sister who inherited our father's iron fist."

Sandro smiled a bit at that. "I wish it was that simple with my family."

"Have you talked to your dad about it?" 

Sandro blinked and took while to answer Baste's question. "That... has never crossed my mind actually."

Baste's grin turned wider. "He'll understand. I'm sure. Pops and I had our talk back when I was in college. Almost went to college of Law, good thing he talked to me out of and convinced me to just follow what I really wanted."

"Which is?" And was it just Baste or did Sandro really sound genuinely curious.

"Helping people and surfing. In that order."

"So you do outreach projects?" 

Baste shrugged and flipped through the menu. "I do that outside of work. I manage a small recycling business, and a small surfing school business, but I do outreach projects in Davao every once in a while, especially in harder to reach areas. My sis is too busy most of the time to take care of all the areas on her own."

"Hmmm," Sandro said as he sipped his ginger tea. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but the waiter interrupted as he asked for their orders. Sandro turned away from Baste and smiled at the waiter in the same charming way he did when Baste first met him. "Bagnet for me and my friend here. And another mug of salabat (ginger tea) would be great. Then maybe a beer for my friend here?"

Baste quickly interjected. "I'm not in Ilocos often, so let me try that salabat tea of yours. Beer, I can get anywhere in the country."

Sandro smiled and nodded. "Then that makes it two salabat for us. That should be all." He thanked the waiter and he turned back to Baste as the waiter left. "You've never tried Salabat before?"

"I've only heard of it," Baste said with a shrug. 

"Here try it first. We can cancel your order if it's not to your liking," Sandro said as he leaned on the table and set his mug closer to Baste.

Baste raised an eyebrow and looked down at the offered mug. "You're gonna lose your first indirect kiss to a stranger," he teased as he picked it up and drank down the warm liquid. 

He wasn't sure what was better, the warm sweet and bitter liquid flowing down his throat or the cute blushing cheeks of Sandro after his comment.


	3. Speeches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandro has to deliver his father's speech. He's nervous because it was last minute, guess who manages to cheer him on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was only able to see the snippets of his speech and admittedly Sandro was adorable :)) so I tried to be vague with details because I wasn't able to watch the whole thing. 
> 
> Also wasn't sure if Bongbong got hospitalized or anything, I just did it to further the plot :)  
> Anyways, enjoyyyy <3
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all for the comments! It makes me more determined to write more <3

 

Speeches

 

_______________________________________________________

 

 

Sandro was a confident young man, he was and has always been. He knew his thing and every time a big task was given to him he would always find time to prepare for it.

But, just like any other person, his confidence showed cracks when unplanned things come his way.

Unplanned things like one Baste Duterte, a man who could effectively cut off his sharp wit with a few choice words that made Sandro think that the young Duterte was more sensitive than he projected himself to be. That or with a few crass cuss words he would spill when he was caught off guard.

He could still remember that sharp "P*****ina!" curse Baste had growled when the waiter accidentally spilled his refill of salabat on to his pants. But then, the embarrassed look tough man Baste had when all heads turned their way made Sandro laugh at the poor guy's expense. It was the highlight of the Ilocos campaign for Sandro, and he didn't remember when was the last time he had so much fun. The memory alone made Sandro smile despite his uncertainty at the moment.

Uncertaintly, it was something he didn't feel often. This was the other unplanned issue that he had at the moment. Why oh why of all days did his father have to be sick on a day that he had a speech to deliver?

His brothers had guilt tripped him into doing this because eating at that restaurant had been his idea. Who knew that their oysters were bad? Who knew that their dad would order only oysters? It wasn't his fault completely, but they all made it sound like it was, so he was here to deliver the speech that his father was supposed to deliver.

Sandro looked down at the pristine white paper in his hands and sighed for the nth time that night. This wasn't his speech, and it was only given to him an hour ago, when they confirmed that his father was too weak to deliver the speech. They had hopes that his father would have recovered by now. But such was his luck, his father could not make it.

He liked the way the speech was written actually. He had no qualms about the message either. But he would have wanted to have more time to prepare! He didn't want this speech to sound hollow, not when the content was this good.

He sighed again, how many times now he had lost count already.But mid sigh, a gentle vibration from his pants pocket alerted him of a message on his cell.

The young Marcos pulled out his phone and clicked on the message. Unknown number. Could be a wrong number? He opened it and read through the message. The sender didn't even introduce himself.

  
"Saw on the news that your dad was sick, and everyone in the media is assuming that you'll be doing his speech.  
I think you'll do great so I won't wish you luck! Kaya mo yan bro! (You can do it Bro)"

Sandro raised a delicate brow. Bro? Since when did anyone call him bro? His brothers definitely didn't. And his brothers knew that he was really suspicious of numbers that were not saved in his contact list. Also who would text him like this? He ignored the text and pocketed his phone.

Being a Marcos, he wasn't new to pranksters. He was used to death threats too, especially from people who felt wronged by his grandfather. So he had grown the habit of ignoring people whose numbers he didn't know. Best way to deal with pranksters and ill wishers was to ignore them and not feed the fire.

But, whoever this person was. He was persistent. Not a few seconds later, Sandro felt his phone vibrate even more persistently, meaning he was receiving a call instead. He rolled his eyes and ignored it. He wasn't answering a stranger's call.

Five minutes and probably 3 missed calls later, his phone finally stopped vibrating and Sandro heaved a sigh or relief. Indeed the best way to deal with these people was to ignore them.

He plucked his phone from his pocket to erase the missed call data from his phone, only to see that the mysterious caller had sent him another message in between calls.

He sighed and, against his better judgment, opened the message.

"Ah, si Baste nga pala to" (This is Baste by the way)

Sandro blinked and stared at the screen. Baste. Baste? How did the Duterte son get his number?

"How did you get my number?" he quickly typed, still not sure if it really was Duterte he was texting, or a prankster. But really, who would prank him with this? Both he and Baste were relatively unknown to both the media at the moment so no one could possibly know that they even knew each other.

The phone was quiet for a moment and then a response. Sandro quickly opened it and his eyes widened.

"I asked your dad when we were in Ilocos last time."

Sandro blinked. Ok, this wasn't funny anymore. So the prankster knew that they met in Ilocos? That was information only Duterte's close followers and his father's knew. So was it one of them? Because why would Baste go out of his way to send him a text, or even bother to call just to wish him luck on a speech?

Sandro worried his lower lip as he continued to think. Apparently he was taking a bit of time, as his phone vibrated to let him know that another message was received.

"He also told me that you're not too trusting of random numbers texting or calling you. But really is it too hard to trust a guy you shared an indirect kiss with? And that was a lie. He gave me your number earlier today."

Sandro felt heat creep up his neck and up to his ears. There was no mistake. This was Baste.

"Hah, your dad was right."

Sandro blinked. Wait, what? Was he hearing voices in his head now?

A soft chuckle followed those spoken words and Sandro turned around to see Baste leaning against the doorframe of his waiting room. "Hope you don't mind that I didn't knock."

"B...Baste?!"

Baste's lips slowly curled up into a smirk. "Who else?"

"But but but the campaign! What are you doing here?!" Sandro rarely stuttered, he rarely stumbled over his words. But again, Baste Duterte proved to be a man who was capable of catching him off guard.

"Pops is taking a break today. He went back to Davao to check on one of his projects," Baste said casually as he strolled into the room and sat down on one of the chairs opposite Sandro's. He was wearing his trademark tshirt, and a pair of casual loose jeans. In Sandro's opinion the shirt didn't do him justice. It was too loose. And those jeans... yup, too loose too. During the campaign in Ilocos he was probably not aware of how he looked, but most of the shirts he wore back then were a bit too tight, and accentuated his broad chest in just the right way.... Sandro mentally shook his head. WHAT the hell was he thinking?

Baste eyed him steadily and the younger Marcos forced himself to sit down. How this man who was barely 30, could handle himself so casually and yet with such authority just baffled the younger man. If only he had half of his charisma and confidence.

"So what are you doing here?" Sandro asked, hoping against hope that his voice wasn't as shakey as he thought it was.

"Going straight to the point huh? Thought  as much." Baste chuckled and shrugged casually as he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Heard your dad was sick. One of your aides got in touch with my old man. But he was on his way to Davao when he heard, so I went over in his stead."

"You went to visit dad?" Sandro asked, surprised that Baste had done so. After all, the Marcoses and Dutertes had no political alliance. They weren't even running mates for this election.

Baste nodded. "Your old man has a lot of fight in him. Food poisoning or not, he had enough energy to joke around," Baste said, chuckling at the memory. "But he was worried about you," he said, tone turning slightly more serious. "He said he didn't want you to take his place."

Sandro's hold on the sheet of paper tightened slightly. His father didn't have faith in him, did he? Of course. Why would he? At this age, his father was already active in the government. What had Sandro done? Studying his life away in England. It was nothing compared to what his father could do at this age.

He looked back at Baste, ready to say something, but the look in Baste's eyes kept him silent.

"You're doubting yourself," Baste said as he kept their eyes locked. It wasn't a question. And no matter how much he wanted to, Sandro could not look away. "Your father worried because he didn't want you shouldering his burdens. This was his speech, he should have done it. He holds you in very high regard you know, so never doubt yourself. Stupid Sandro."

Sandro blinked. What? He didn't know which one he should react to first, the knowledge that his dad kept him in high regard, or that Baste had just called him stupid.

"Your dad didn't choose you to do this because you were the eldest, nor did he choose you because your brothers guilt tripped you into doing this. He chose you because you were the best one for the job," Baste said as he stood up and walked closer to where Sandro was seated.

  
Sandro worried his lower lip again as Baste came closer and closer and his words sank in. His father believed in him. He really did. Did Baste come all the way here just to tell him that?

 

Baste's hand gently clasped over his shoulder and the young Marcos barely held his breath. "You'll be great," he said as he left the room, leaving Sandro at a loss for words.

 

 

**

 

Baste slipped his hands into his pant pockets as he walked through the crowd of students that had already started filing into the auditorium for the much awaited Marcos speech. He hoped he had given the right words of advise for the Marcos scion. Bongbong seemed really worried when they spoke that morning after all.

 ~

"Di pa sya sanay sa ganito," (he's not used to this kind of thing yet) the older Marcos said as he laid in his hospital bed. "He's used to giving speeches in his university, and back in high school. But he always writes his own. My son has his own mind and it's brilliant. Reading a speech like this feels like an insult to his capability."

Baste chuckled. "I suck at speeches Mr Marcos," he said as he shook his head. "As for your son, yeah, I kind of got the feeling that he's a smart one. He's also one of the few who doesn't judge me for," Baste motioned to his whole person with both hands, "this."

Bong Bong looked him over and raised an eyebrow. "From what I've seen, you nor your father judge us as Marcoses. So I don't see why he wouldn't hold you in higher regard."

Baste laughed at that and shook his head. "He didn't know who I was when we first met."

"Oh?" Then Bong Bong's lips curled up into a fond smile. "Ah, I remember now. You were talking to him at the airport when he arrived from England."

"Yessir," Baste said with a silly grin. "He didn't judge me back then, and he had kind words for my father, even without knowing who i was. So I had a good glimpse of his character."

Bong Bong nodded. "He's always been that way, my sweet son," Bong Bon said fondly. "He takes more after his mother than myself."

"I'd say he took your intelligence at least."

Bong Bong chuckled at that "I don't think my wife will appreciate that." Then he gently clutched his side as the laughter made his sides hurt slightly. "Ah, if only I didn't get food poisoning... I hope he'll be alright tonight. He probably thinks his brothers guilt tripped him into this or something. I got food poisoning at the restaurant he recommended after all.  I'd go to make sure, but I don't think they'll let me out of the hospital anytime soon."

"I can go in your stead," Baste offered before his brain could catch up with his tongue.

"You will?" Bong Bong asked.

"Yeah, I can give him your message for you. That you worry because you placed this sudden and unnecessary burden on him, but also know that he's smart enough to pull through it no problem."

"That sounds better than how I would have worded it." Bong Bong reached for his side table and took his cellphone. "I'll give you his number. But you better remember to tell him who you are first. He's really paranoid when it comes to numbers he doesn't know."

~ 

Baste chuckled inwardly. Sandro was paranoid alright. How many calls did he make that Sandro ignored? Around five maybe? 

It was alright to be paranoid though. Not everyone grew up in a city as safe as Davao. Even then, Davao wasn't that safe when he was younger, until his father took over and made the place safe again. So he understood, especially for a man born into the Marcos family. He couldn't imagine the pressure Sandro felt, nor could he imagine how it felt to grow up under the shadow of a fallen regime.

Somehow though, Baste could tell, that Sandro was going far. He had the wit, and the charm, and honestly he had the good looks to woo the Philippine public. It was a cute innocent charm that Filipinos seem to love. Larger, gruffer men, like the Dutertes, and Baste more specifically, did not get the same following, which was perfectly fine for Baste. He didn't like that kind of attention.

So he had high hopes for Sandro, and he had a feeling he would ace this speech. He had it in him to do well.

He leaned back against one of the pillars at the very back of the auditorium. Even from back there, he could see the movement in front that signalled that Sandro was making his way to the podium.

He heard the hushed whispers of girls, wondering who was that cute mestizo on the podium. But his sharp eyes also zeroed in on the telltale shaking of Sandro's hand. He was nervous. Who wouldn't be?

He saw Sandro smile to the public, a smile that looked perfect for the cameras but strained. It was nothing like the smile he had seen back in Ilocos. But the cameras focused on him, loving this new refreshing figure that the Marcoses had presented. He waved, and Baste could tell it was his way of shaking the nerves from his limbs.

Then he was on the podium. And then, for a brief moment, he felt Sandro's eyes on him. He wasn't sure if Sandro could see him so far out in the crowd. But the smile that Sandro made as they made eye contact, that was enough proof for Baste. It was the same smile he saw in Ilocos, when there were no cameras, and no media, a genuinely happy smile.

Then, perhaps it was his imagination, but Sandro's hands seemed to have stopped shaking, and Baste could not help but grin. "Kaya mo to bro," (you can do this bro) he said softly, quietly, supporting Sandro in his silence.

*

Baste had wanted to speak to the young Marcos after the speech, to congratulate him on his great delivery. But, as expected, the media LOVED him. They swarmed him like bees to honey. Baste didn't want to get in the way of that, so he left the venue when the speech was over and when it was obvious Sandro would not be getting any alone time any time soon.

No one knew about the friendship between the two of them, and no one has to know. It was better this way, both for them, and for their fathers.

So, imagine his surprise, when, on the way out of the school premises to take a jeepney ride back to his hotel, he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

He took it out and smirked. Well well what do you know?

"Iniwan ka na ng fans mo?" he asked in jest as he picked up the call.  
(Have your fans finally left you alone?)

He heard a shy laugh from the other end of the line. "Tumakas ako." (I escaped)

Baste barked out an even louder laugh."That's perfect! I would have done the same."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Baste thought that the line had disconnected, until "Have you left the venue already?" was asked in a softer tone.

Baste's eyes widened slightly and he shook his head, despite Sandro not being able to see him anyway. "Nah, I'm about to take a jeepney back to my hotel. But I'm still here. Wanna meet up?"

"Yes! um... I mean, yeah... I could ask the driver to go around to pick you up."

Baste had to keep himself from laughing at the poor guy's expense. Well he seemed excited to see him again didn't he? Even though they had just met like an hour ago.

"I need to um.. thank you for visiting my dad, and to thank you for visiting him in the hospital."

"Sure, I'm near the back entrance of the school." Baste said simply, to spare Sandro. It was obvious that he was stumbling over his words. Maybe it was a carry over of nerves from the speech.

"Ok, stay there."

"Yes sir," Baste said with a chuckle as he ended the call.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! Sorry about that ^^ 
> 
> Alsoooo  
> I scheduled myself to make an update everyday. But tomorrow (Saturday) and the day after are both full for me so I cannot promise a new chapter. Hopefully by Sunday night I would have written something for chapter 4. Thanks for reading this far!


	4. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be just a filler, but things got slightly out of hand and the friendly banter gave way to an early jump for Sandro's feelings for Baste. I'm sorry that it's slightly shorter than usual, but the next chapter will be longer, I promise. 
> 
> I'm still waiting for the final results of the VP electoral race thus the need for a filler because I wanted to write a new chapter but I also wanted to stay close to what is actually happening in RL. If Leni is the presumptive winner then I will continue with the plot ^^

  
Baste didn't have to wait long. A few minutes after their call ended, he saw a heavily tinted black Lexus pull up by the sidewalk. The window opened slightly and he could see Sandro peeking from the partially opened window.  
  
He chuckled and walked closer to the car. He tugged on the door and slipped inside without a second thought, as Sandro scooted away to give him some space.  
  
"So your car or daddy's?" he asked casually as he closed the door with a soft thud.  
  
"Dad's," Sandro answered quickly and that made Baste chuckle.  
  
"Defensive," Baste teased as he settled on to the leather seat. This was really comfortable, maybe this was why this car cost so much. He didn't really dream of getting a car like this, never rode in one before either. Baste was a simple man with humble dreams.  
  
He turned his gaze to Sandro and laughed again when he saw that Sandro's cheeks had turned pink.  
  
"Shy type ka ata," (You seem to be a shy type of person) Baste teased, and when Sandro's cheeks turned even pinker, Baste finally had mercy and stopped teasing to give the younger man some breathing room. "So, where are we headed?" he asked instead.  
  
Sandro opened his lips to speak but nothing came out. So he cleared his throat and tried again. Thankfully his lips cooperated the second time around. "There's a restaurant close by. It has really good food."  
  
"What's the name of the restaurant?"  
  
"Le Jardin."  
  
Baste nearly laughed again when he heard the name. "One malayo un." (One that place is far.) "Two, mamahaling restoran yan eh!" (That's such an expensive restaurant!)  
  
Baste could swear that Sandro deflated with his reaction to his choice of restaurant and the older man let out a soft chuckle. "But it's your day. We're celebrating your first public speech so really up to you to decide on where to go. Your day, your choice." It was so easy to tease Sandro, and Baste just couldn't help himself.  
  
"But I wanted to do this to thank you..."  
  
"And celebrate your first successful public speech." Baste turned to the chauffeur in the driver's seat. "Let's go to where your boss wants to go."  
  
The chauffeur nodded and the car began to to move.  
  
Baste smiled and settled back down on the leather seat. He patted the space beside him, feeling the smooth leather seat. "This isn't half bad. Now I see why people like this kind of car."  
  
"But you don't like this kind of car right?" Sandro asked him.  
  
Baste shook his head. "Nah, I prefer cheaper cars, don't need a luxury car like this. I need a car to bring me places, not to make me feel like I want to nap. Besides, one of these can buy me two to three cheaper cars," he said and then shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"You're a really practical guy huh?"  
  
"I don't want to spend more than what an average guy can."  
  
There was silence in the car for a few seconds before Sandro spoke again. "What if... what if you get death threats? How do you protect yourself in a normal car? Even if you install bullet proof windows, the body of the car is still..."  
  
"We don't get death threats in Davao," Baste said simply. Then, turning to Sandro, his expression softened slightly. "I don't have to ask, do I?" He didn't. He already had an image before when he considered how paranoid Sandro was when it came to phone calls. Death threats must come often for his family.  
  
Sandro smiled a little bit, but Baste could see that it was a strained smile. "I've lost count."  
  
Baste sighed and his arm moved without him thinking about it, and before he knew it it was wrapped around Sandro's shoulders and the larger man had pulled him close for a sideways hug. He felt Sandro tense at the initial contact and then slowly relax as Baste pulled him close. No words were necessary, and they spent the rest of the drive in this position, with Baste only letting go when they arrived at the posh looking restaurant.  
  
"Sirs, we're here," the chauffeur said as the car came to a complete stop in front of the restaurant.  
  
Sandro untangled himself from Baste's arm but Baste could see the faint pink tinge that was still on his cheeks. "We should get going," Sandro murmured as he opened the door and stepped out.  
  
Baste didn't comment on his blushing cheeks (the nth time he has seen it)  and followed the Marcos son out of the car silently. His eyes scanned the surroundings and he whistled when he saw how posh the restaurant looked. But he didn't comment. Sandro was already feeling down and embarrassed as it was with all his previous teasing.  
  
"If it's not to your liking, we can go somewhere else."  
  
Baste turned to see that Sandro was looking at him, and his fingers were fiddling with the hem of his button down shirt. Poor guy looked so nervous.  
  
"Bro, I already said this was alright. It's your day, so we're celebrating your style. Next time though, we're having dinner my way."  
  
Next time, huh? So he was planning a "next time" with Sandro? The idea just made Baste slap himself at the back. Such a bad idea... no way Sandro would say yes to such a thing.  
  
Sandro smiled, nerves seeming to lessen as Baste didn't mock him for his choice of restaurant. Or maybe he also picked up on Baste mentioning a definite second dinner.  
  
"Then I look forward to next time."  
  
Ah, definitely the second.

And Baste was proven wrong, again.   
  
Baste chuckled. "I need to be careful that you don't get a stomachache like your dad," he teased as they made their way into the restaurant.  
He would try to enjoy this, if only for Sandro's sake. He would never admit that he was enjoying himself immensely too.   
  
*  
  
Dinner had been interesting for Sandro to say the least. Baste, who always looked so cool and composed, seemed to be so out of his element. He hardly knew most of the items on the menu and Sandro nearly choked on his red wine when Baste asked where the spoon was and why there were so many forks on the table.  
  
They were from totally different worlds, Baste and him, and yet, if his father won the vice presidential race, he would be seeing Baste and the Dutertes more often. So he would have to get used to the other man... which didn't seem so bad really. He was really interesting company and he calmed Sandro down in ways that no one else could. It was really intriguing how quickly and he felt at ease with Baste. Perhaps it was the rugged Duterte charm? The same way his father won the hearts of the whole country?  
  
  Baste also complained about the white wine, saying beer would have tasted better with his shellfish. Instead of taking offense, Sandro just laughed and amused himself at Baste's predicament. Baste did not blush, nor did he get embarrassed. Even if he didn't know something, or made a mistake, he made this expression that was a cross between a frown and a questioning look that had Sandro laughing before he could even stop himself. The laughter earned him an earful of curses and a glare that would have probably scared anyone else.  
  
By the end of the evening, and after glancing at their bill, Baste had sworn that their next dinner would be either home cooked food or, if their schedules allowed, a small carinderia he frequented in Davao.  
  
"That was enough to feed like twenty people," he had grumbled as they made their way out of the restaurant.  
  
Sandro had to agree. The food was a bit overpriced. But he liked the taste and he liked how they kept his and his family's privacy here. The media was not allowed to get into the restaurant, the owners made sure of that.  
  
"Then next time we're going with what you want," he had promised Baste as they drove back to the Duterte son's hotel.  
  
"Sa mura lang talaga tayo next time," Baste muttered under his breath. (We're definitely dining at a cheaper restaurant next time)  
   
Sandro had chuckled and nodded. Baste had glared at him, and before he knew it, that strong arm was wrapped around his shoulder a second time that night and he was pulled in close once more. Why Baste did it again, he didn't really understand. He didn't have the gall to question him. But he also didn't really mind, and questioning the action would send the wrong message right? So he just let Baste do what he wanted.

None of that really explained why his heart was beating faster. The closer he was to Baste, the louder and faster his heart seemed to beat, and it scared him to think about it.   
  
He had thought of it before, that compared to him, Baste was physically stroner. He wasn't ripped like the male supermodels, but he had really strong arms and legs. He had seen how he ran back and forth during the campaign in Ilocos, and how he carried items for his father'S campaign. He did the grunt work, and he was not ashamed of it. The way he could pull Sandro into a sideways embrace was enough proof that he was stronger than Sandro.  
  
Sandro blushed as he touched his shoulder, feeling the lingering sensation of Baste's arm on him. They had parted ways almost an hour ago and Sandro couldn't help but let his mind wander as the traffic congestion along the highway kept him from getting back home.  
  
"Are we still far off?" he asked his chauffeur.  
  
"Lapit na po." (We're almost there) the chauffeur responded as he looked up at his rear view mirror to establish eye contact with Sandro. "Boss, if I may," he started. "Ingat lang po kayo na di malaman ni sir." (Just be careful that sir does not know about this)  
  
Sandro blinked, not really expecting those words from the family chauffeur. "Ang alin?" (What do you mean?)  
  
The chauffeur winked and said, "You know what I mean sir. Don't worry your secret is safe with me."  
  
Sandro blinked again and then realization hit him as a renewed blush spread across his cheeks. But a small smile spread across his lips anyway. "Salamat." (Thank you)  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kuya driver knows eehheheh ;3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The results are in, BBM lost and Leni Robredo won the race. With his father and the family dealing with the loss, Sandro gets an unexpected text from Baste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has been no official declaration yet but with the lead Leni Robredo has, I am assuming that she will win the elections. This kind of puts a dent on my plot but it should make things more interesting <3 The plot continues, enjoy!

Sandro rarely saw his father express his emotions openly. But today, he saw him break down, he saw his father on the verge of tears when his opponent Leni Robredo was unofficially proclaimed the winner of the vice presidential race on live TV. She wouldn't be sworn into office yet, but with this much of a lead, his loss was already irreversible.

They could contest the results all they wanted, especially with the ballot machines having had their codes changed during counting. But that wouldn't help a lot.

Even if they did contest, they would project an image of being sore losers.

His father fought a fair fight, and it was a close race. He was proud of him, his whole family was proud of him, but he knew his father did not think the same.

When the tv stations blasted the news, his father had excused himself and retreated to his study. Sandro fought the urge to follow. He wanted to, he wanted to hug his father and assure him it was alright, that they could try again for the next elections. But his better judgement stopped him.

Marcoses had their pride and Sandro was sure his father would not want his family to see him in tears.

It was a good race, but they had lost and there was no changing that fact.

Sandro leaned back against the wall, half his attention on the tv, and half his attention on the closed door of his father's study.

It was only when his cellphone vibrated in his pocket that he was distracted. He took it out and there was a text from Baste. Even before his Twitter followers or his friends, it was Baste who was there to offer a few words. The very thought brought a small smile on the young man's features. It was nice that someone cared enough to comfort him somehow.

"Bro, saw the news on Tita Leni. It was a good race, congrats to your father for making it this far."

"It was a hard fight, and we fought well," Sandro responded.

 

"Yes you did. I would have loved to have seen our fathers work together."

Sandro's fingers paused on his keyboard. He would have loved that too, if it meant for his father's dream to come true, and to have an excuse to see Baste... But that wouldn't happen now would it? Baste's father would stay in the executive department of government, and his father would continue serving as a senator in the legislative department to finish his term. They wouldn't have any excuse to interact. The election race was over, and so was his short friendship with Baste Duterte.

His phone's vibrations snapped him out of his thoughts again for the second time that day.

"Ah bro, tanong ko lang... Free ka mamaya?" (Ah, bro, I just want to ask, are you free later?)

Sandro's eyes widened and his hold on the phone tightened slightly. Baste wanted to see him? Why? What favor would he need?

Another vibration and Sandro quickly swiped the screen to read the message. "Or tomorrow? Or the weekend? Just tell me when you're free?"

Sandro took a deep breath and typed in. "Tonight is ok."

There was barely time to breathe before the the presidential son's response came through. "See you!"

Sandro took a deep breath and put his phone back in his pocket. He wasn't even aware that his hand was shaking slightly as he did, all he was aware of was how fast his heart was beating against his chest.

*

And so, later into the night, he was standing in the waiting room of the Malacanang Palace. Baste's father, Rodrigo "Digong" Duterte hadn't been sworn in yet as the next president, but they were already moving some of the new First family in as the current president only used a few of the rooms in the presidential house. The current president was single after all.

He managed to slip through some of the reporters who were waiting outside the palace gates. Good thing his car had Dark tinted windows and his father rarely used this car so the media didn't recognize it. It was easy to get by without them swarming him.

But really what was he doing here? He squirmed slightly on the couch he was sitting on, his eyes not fully taking in the wooden sculptures and tapestries on the wall. His mind was not here, it was on Baste and why the First son would ask to meet up with him.

He tried to think of reasons but his head was blank. Well not blank blank, but the one reason he could think of was so unreal and so out of this world that he didn't dare to think about it. Perhaps, maybe.... Maybe Baste wanted to meet him because...

"Sandro! Glad you could make it bro!"

Sandro's head snapped up and he saw Baste jogging towards him. He... looked the same. Despite living in the Malacanang Palace now, he was still wearing his t shirt, his loose jeans and his really old and worn out sandals. Sandro was sure it had a hole in there somewhere if he looked hard enough.

"Your clothing style hasn't changed," he observed as he got up and walked to Baste.

Baste grinned widely and he gave Sandro a blatant once over. "Yours hasn't either."

Sando chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I didn't move into Malacanang Palace."

"Just because I had a change of address doesn't mean I have to change myself. I'm still the same ol' Baste Duterte," Baste chuckled.

"So... why did you want to meet up tonight?" Sandro asked, forcing the words out of his lips before he could backpedal.

Baste scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously. "Ah... I need your help with something," he said, rather sheepishly and Sandro was surprised. He had never seen Baste shy or nervous, so what was this?

Baste chuckled and took a deep breath and reached down to wrap his hand around Sandro's wrist. "You'll know when you see."

Before Sandro could even comprehend that Baste had taken his hand, he was already being dragged through the halls of Malacanang. "Wait! Baste! Where are we going?" he asked, keeping his voice soft so as not to cause a commotion, but loud enough to express his distress.

But Baste didn't answer him so Sandro stopped wasting his breath and let the other man drag him along. Finally when they stopped and Baste let him go, Sandro pouted slightly and rubbed his wrist. Baste had a tight grip, that much he Was sure of now.

Baste noted the action and scratched his head again. "Ah, sorry," he apologized. "Did I grip too tight?"

Sandro sighed and nodded, pout still on his lips. "Just a tiny bit."

"Sorry bout that, I was nervous," Baste said as he scratched the back of his head again.

"Nervous? What for?" Sandro asked. Really, what was it that had the strong confident Baste Duterte nervous?

Baste motioned for Sandro towards the open door of his room, and Sandro hesitated a bit but in the end he peeked in anyway and what he saw made him laugh. Sandro never laughed that much before but he did now.

Baste's room (at least Sandro assumed that it was because there was a bed, a tv, and a desk in there) had crumpled sheets of paper thrown everywhere. It was a mess, and Sandro had never seen something like this before, except maybe in movies.

"What in the world happened here?!" Sandro asked between bouts of laughter.

 

Baste mumbled something and Sandro couldn't hear it because of how softly Baste said it.

"What? I couldnt hear you!"

"I couldn't write a fucking speech," Baste growled as he stomped into the room, obviously trying to get away from the still laughing Sandro.

"All this mess because of a..." Sandro doubled over in laughter a second time as Baste growled even louder and dropped on to his bed with a hmph.

Sandro by now had to wipe tears from his eyes. "Alright i'm sorry! I promise I won't laugh anymore!"

Baste glared at the pile of crumpled papers on his desk and on the floor and refused to look at Sandro. "You're laughing way too much at this," he grumbled.

Sandro approached him, carefully avoiding a clump of crumpled paper by Baste's bed. "Sorry, it's the first time I've seen something like this. It's like you threw out a whole pad of paper," he said and Baste crossed his arms with a loud hmph.

"If you're just going to laugh at me, then asking for your help might not have been the best decision."

"Come on, I was just teasing," Sandro said as he sat down beside Baste. "So, why the speech? Your dad isn't going to be sworn in for at least two more weeks."

Baste grumbled out a curse in his native dialect and then ran his hand through his hair. "I have to make a speech for DSWD (Department of Social Welfare and Development). People seem to think that running a small outreach project in Davao gives me enough merit."

"Well you're the presidential son now," Sandro said as he raised his hand and placed it on Baste's shoulder. "People will look to you for direction."

Baste grumbled. "That's why I wanted to stay in Davao," he muttered lowly. "I didn't want this."

"But you're here now," Sandro said gently. "You won't run away from your responsibilities right?" he continued to ask, being careful not to be too pushy.

Baste cursed again but it didn't have the intensity of a real curse. "i know... I have to do this," he muttered.

Sandro smiled and gently squeezed his shoulder. "Relax, I'll help you. Don't worry." He chuckled softly and patted Baste's shoulder. "You're too tense, let's get you a massage when we're done writing the draft."

*

Two hours later, both Sandro and Baste were hunched over the study table, page after page of neatly written drafts were around them in a neat pile.

"How can you still write so neatly after two hours?" Baste murmured as he crossed his arms and settled them on the table, his chin resting comfortably in the nook that his crossed arms created.

Sandro could feel that gaze on him, and he focused his concentration on his writing. He was almost done and he wouldn't let Baste distract him from finishing this.

"Practice," Sandro said calmly as he continued to write.

"Hmmm really," Baste said in a tone that told Sandro he wasn't believing him.

"I won't be the one reading this, so if it's messy then you won't be able to read it at all," Sandro countered as he continued writing the concluding paragraph for the speech.

"Heh, so you're concerned for me?"

Sandro chewed the inside of his cheek as he tried to concentrate without getting affected by, what he recognized now as, Baste's teasing. "I just don't want you blaming me if you can't read my handwriting."

"Why will I blame you? Without you this speech wouldn't even exist."

Sandro sighed and continued writing. "Still. I already decided to help you, so I won't do a half assed job of it."

 

"But two hours straight, even I'm getting tired," Baste murmured as he continued staring at Sandro's moving fingers.

"You're not really doing anything."

"Watching you write is lulling me to sleep."

"Then stop watching me write."

"But it's interesting."

Sandro rolled his eyes and ignored Baste after that. He wouldn't be able to concentrate if he responded to Baste's teasing.

Without him responding, Baste's teasing finally died down and Sandro continued working in silence. With only the soft sound of pen scraping paper, Sandro worked on the final paragraph. He only looked up when he placed the final period on the final sentence. "Done! he said happily.

When Baste did not respond to him he turned to look at the other man and realized why he had stopped teasing him.

Baste had fallen asleep.

Sandro chuckled softly. "Funny how a simple speech could stress you out, out of your element?" he said teasingly as he got up and stretched his limbs. "Big man Baste Duterte, defeated by a speech," he said as he stepped back and his hand gingerly moved across the other man's broad shoulder.

It's been a few days since they had their dinner together, and yet he could still remember the feeling of Baste's arm around his shoulder. The gentleness that accompanied his physical strength was something Sandro could not understand, yet it was something he appreciated.His build was smaller, more delicate, and he would never measure up against Baste, not physically at least.

He took a deep breath as he pressed the muscle on Baste's shoulder. "Really stressed out huh?" he whispered softly as he gently kneaded Baste's stiff shoulder. "Or have you been stressed out this whole time and just hiding it?"

No response, of course, the man was asleep. If he wasn't Sandro wouldn't dare do this. Of course Baste had hugged him during the car ride before, but maybe it was a friendly hug? Maybe he wouldn't appreciate being massaged by another guy? Sandro didn't want to think about it, and thankfully he didn't have to because Baste was asleep and unresponsive.

 

That was, until a soft and gruff, "You have gentle hands," was murmured by the man who was supposed to be asleep and Sandro saw him stir.

He was supposed to move his hand, move it back and deny ever touching Baste, he could blame it on being sleepy or something.

But Sandro froze. His hand didn't move from the other's shoulder. He couldn't move it, it felt like he was splashed by cold water.

What now?! he thought in panic. He didn't know what to do.

"You stopped," the gruff, sleepy voice of Baste floated to his ears once more. Only this time, it was accompanied by a brush of something soft and ticklish on his fingers. Sandro blinked, and blinked a second time.

Baste had turned his head to one side and was kissing his fingers gently, one by one. "Don't stop."

Sandro could feel his whole face burn with embarrassment. Baste... Baste was kissing his fingers! What.. Why?!

"B...Baste...what?!" he stammered.

"Your fingers are gentle, and beautiful... don't stop," Baste murmured.

 

Sandro's eyes widened and he quickly pulled his hand back. "I... I may have overstayed my welcome," he muttered quickly. and took a few steps back.

"Sandro," Baste said as he, despite having just woken up (or was he even asleep really), reached out and gripped Sandro's hand to keep him in place.

But Sandro pulled his arm back and the adrenaline pumping through his veins somehow made him stronger than Baste and he managed to break his hand out of that grip. "I.. I have to go," he said quickly and ran out of the room. He ran and ran without looking back. He fished out his phone and quickly dialed his chauffeur's number. "Kuya, please fetch me na," he said quickly, hoping that his voice wasn't shaking.

"Sir is everything alright?"

Sandro nodded and continued to run through the halls of Malacanang. "Yes kuya, just, just come quickly, " Sandro said, and he never stopped running until he reached the safety of his car, he didn't even check if Baste had gone after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, the sweet moments are about to commence! The attraction begins and there's no stopping it. I still haven't started on chapter 6, but let's see how Baste plans to woo Sandro :3
> 
> Artwork posted with permission from the artist. Please follow her on twitter @izajena


	6. Harana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with Baste and Sandro dealing with their feelings and finally taking some steps to address their attraction to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for all the reviews, they encourage me to write faster! They also give me the drive to continue this.  
> So please keep them coming <3  
> (no kidding, I squeal internally with each written review <3 )
> 
> Anyways, this chapter will be heavy in terms of their over thinking, as both of them will be doing that. But I tried to keep their interaction lighter and more "fun" to balance the last chapter. 
> 
> I apologize if it's cliche, but it was super fun writing and imagining it.

 

 

Chapter 6

Harana

 

Delicate fingers dancing across clear white paper. It felt like a dance, and Baste watched, as if in a trance.  
It was more graceful than any dance he has ever witnessed.

Fingers that didn't seem to belong to a man, smooth and beautiful compared to his own rough and calloused ones. A small and tender wrist that fit so well into his grip... it felt so natural, to hold that tender wrist in his hands.

Baste sighed as he stared up at the rotating fan on his ceiling. How many days has it been now since Sandro left? How many days has it been now since Sandro stopped answering his calls or responding to his messages? How many days ago has it been now since he lost his self control and just did what felt ... right?

"You just had to fuck that up huh?" he muttered.

Sandro hadn't been opposed to his embrace in the car, and Baste had done that twice. When Baste invited him to come over on short notice, he had come too. So he thought.... maybe, maybe he had a chance. Chance at what he didn't really understand. He didn't know when it started, or even how it started. But he couldn't get Sandro Marcos out of his head. He didn't know for sure if he liked him, or if he was attracted to him in that way, but he was sure that he wanted Sandro to be with him. He wanted to hear him talk in Filipino with an accent that was uniquely Sandro, wanted to hear him talk about anything, wanted to see him expose a bit of his weakness every now and then wen he spoke about sensitive topics.

Hell he could talk about weather and Baste would listen through and through. Anything. As long as he could see or hear Sandro, it was enough.

It _was_ enough.

Not anymore.

When he embraced him and felt his heat, when he touched his hand and held his wrist, when he felt the smooth skin on his fingers against his lips.... just listening and seeing him was no longer enough.

" _Na unsa man ka Baste, nabayot na ka_?" (What happened to you Baste? Turning gay now?) he muttered to himself as he buried his face into his hands.

He probably was. He was straight all this time, else he wouldn't be fathering his two children right now, and he even had a live in partner  back in Davao, the mother of his second child. But Sandro Marcos just wouldn't leave his mind. He thought about him every waking moment, and it was something he tried to fight before. But it was a losing battle. He couldn't forget him, his smile, his eyes, his everything.

And he had to destroy whatever it was they had by stepping over the boundary.

"You just had to go and kiss his fingers and run your mouth. What were you thinking?" he muttered as he took a deep breath and grabbed his phone from his bedside table.  
No message, no response. He had sent a barrage of text messages to Sandro, apologizing and asking to meet up so he could apologize in person.

Sandro hasn't responded to any of them.

He knew BongBong's number, but would he risk letting the Marcos patriarch know about what he did to Sandro? No he did not. He still valued his life.

"Damn it," he growled as he locked his phone again. How could he apologize when Sandro refused to answer his calls and texts?!

There was no other way then. He would have to go there himself.

But what would that achieve? Best case scenario would be Sandro slamming the door to his face, and worst case is probably a restraining order. His father wasn't sworn in yet and he was already at risk of getting served by the justice system.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair again. But at least he would try?

So if he went there, and Sandro did see him, what then? What would he say? Apologize and then what? Say it was a joke? That he didn't mean any of it?

But he did. He knew what he was doing when he kissed those fingers. He knew what he was doing when he invited him to his room. He knew despite his own doubts and despite his own questions, he knew what he wanted.

" _Pestengyawa,magpakalalake ka nga Baste!_ " (Fucker, man up Baste!) he growled at himself and stood up, stomping towards his dresser to grab a change of clothes.

He had decided.

He wanted Sandro. He wanted Sandro to forgive him, and let him know at the same time that he wanted him.

 

**

 

Sandro had been withdrawn the past few days, his brothers noticed, his mom and dad noticed, even his Lola Imelda noticed. He barely touched his food, barely went out to party. Even his brother's effort to get him the latest EDM cds failed to cheer him up.

His lola Imelda had sent leche flan (local custard), special polvoron (local powdered sweets), his favorite sweets, to cheer him up. But even these were left untouched in one corner of his room.

Everyone was at a loss with what to do with him.

But Sandro didn't really care. He wanted to be alone, needed to be alone. It's been days since the incident at the Malacanang Palace, but until now he still couldn't wrap his head around it.

It felt like something from his imagination. Baste had hugged him days ago, but that could be translated as something friendly, even brotherly.

But the incident at Malacanang... he kissed his fingers.

He actually kissed his fingers.

He kissed them. It wasn't a mistake, it wasn't something he did by accident. He kissed them, one by one. And until now Sandro could still feel the lingering brush of his lips, even the tickling sensation that his mustache had on his fingers... he could remember it all. He hadn't imagined it.

But why? Why would Baste do such a thing?

Sandro frowned slightly and pulled his blanket closer to his body as he looked at the blank wall in his room.

Did Baste do it to play with him? The man had children, he even has a live in partner. So Sandro was just a plaything, wasn't he? He was something to keep his mind off the stressful elections since his partner was in Davao and not here.

The thought made his stomach churn.

He had doubts that he was straight since he was in High school. He liked girls sometimes, but there were also times when a man would attract his fancy. He never addressed his sexuality before though, never thought about it because there was no need to. But now that Baste had bulldozed his way into his life, he was being faced with that damn question.

But what about Baste? If the other man was single, perhaps Sandro wouldn't mind the friendly flirting. A kiss here and there, he would probably play along with it. If the man was single!

But he wasn't! Sandro knew that all along. Baste is straight. He has kids, he has a live in partner, he was taken.

Sandro bit his lower lip. Why would Baste do that? Why to him? Was it because he was a Marcos? If he had let it go further.... would he be another trophy for the Duterte son?

Sandro bit his lower lip harder, and he knew he drew blood. He didn't want to think about this scenario but he couldn't help it. He wanted to know....

But at the same time he also didn't. What if Baste laughed in his face? What if he confirmed Sandro's suspicions?

"Ano ba talaga gusto mo Sandro?!"  (What is it that you really want Sandro?!) he asked himself out loud. "You want to see him, you want to know the truth, but you're scared?" he grumbled at the wall in front of him. "Damn it!" he growled and threw his phone at the wall.

Then, realizing that he did throw his brand new I phone straight at the wall, and probably destroying it in the process, he scrambled to his feet to try and salvage his poor innocent phone.

As he got closer to the wall, he quickly grabbed his phone and sighed in relief as he realized that the case he was using actually protected the thing and it was not cracked at all. Opening his phone though, he saw that today there were no more missed calls or texts from Baste. "He got tired after a few days huh?" he murmured sadly. He was pretty upset and he really didn't want to see Baste or even hear his voice. But at the same time he was also curious as to how long Baste would actually try to get in touch with him. Just a few days was the limit apparently. It hurt... somehow. But it also meant that keeping his distance, this was the right thing to do. 

Then he paused. Was he hearing something? Or was he imagining things? He actually heard a soft strum of an acoustic guitar. But it could be his imagination right?

He cradled his phone in his hand and walked towards the window slowly. It could be their neighbor, causing a ruckus.

He walked slowly towards the window, and quickly gasped and jumped back when he saw what looked like a pebble being thrown at the glass window. He blinked. What just happened? Was he seeing things now?

Apparently not, as another pebble was thrown at the window again, making a soft thudding sound. Then another, and another.

And after the fourth pebble, Sandro came closer to the window to tell the child, or whoever it was childish enough to be throwing pebbles at his window to stop. And as he came closer, Sandro's eyes widened in horror as a larger rock came towards the window, crashing the glass. "What the hell?!!" he growled out in surprise and panic. What was going on?!

" _Napalakas, sorry_!" (I threw it too strong, sorry!) came a loud booming voice from below, a voice that Sandro knew too well by now.

"Baste?" he wondered out loud and then dared to peek out the window.

There he was, with a silly grin on his lips. Baste looked so strange. He was wearing a pair of faded out blue jeans, a haphazardly put together polo shirt, with one missed button hole, and in his arms was an acoustic guitar.

"What are you doing here?" Sandro asked as loud as he could so Baste could hear. Sandro's room was on the second floor of their house after all.

"What does it look like?" Baste asked, still with that silly grin. "You wouldn't pick up your phone, so I decided to just come over!" he said as he strummed a few strings on his guitar."Rakista ako, pero para sayo mag aacoustic ako." (I'm a rocker, but for you I'll try acoustic).

"Hah????" Sandro asked. What was Baste talking about?

Baste just laughed and strummed another cord on the guitar. Being an EDM person, Sandro didn't know a lot of songs. But even he knew this one, and the thought that Baste was singing this, THIS song out of all the songs out there, right outside his window, made Sandro'S face burn bright red. It was a somewhat new OPM song, and it was one of the few songs that he recognized.

If the title of the song was bad enough, Baste's smooth baritone was enough to make any one swoon.

**"Nag iisa, namamangha.**  
**Lungkot nadarama, kapag wala ka.**  
**Sa tuwina ay naghihintay**  
**Sabik sa pagbalik wag ka lang mawalay"**

Sandro nearly jumped when he heard the door slam open behind him. "Sandro iho, we heard something breaking....OH my god what happened here?!" Sandro's mom Liza exclaimed as she saw the glass shards by the window and the rock that was resting on the floor.

  
**"Sanay marinig mo, ang bulong ng damdamin ko."**

 

Sandro couldn't help himself anymore. Ignoring his mom, he ran past her and out of his room. He ran as fast as his legs could take him.  
He ran down the stairs and through the living room, ignoring the surprised look their househelp gave him.  
  
Baste was here. Well he broke his window, so Sandro was not imagining things. He was really here!  
  
The thought made Sandro's heart swell. Baste came, and was, singing a love song outside his room like a stupid idiot.  
  
Sandro smiled as he continued to run. Stupid idiot indeed, and that made two of them.  
  
It didn't take long for him to reach the entrance of his house. He slammed the door open and ran out the front yard. By the time Baste came into view, Sandro was already panting from the effort.  
  
**"Kahit na ano mang hadlang ang pagdaanan...."**  
  
Baste stopped playing when he saw Sandro and the same old silly grin spread across his lips. "I can finally see you."  
  
Sandro blinked and he could feel a small blush on his cheeks. His earlier thoughts about being depressed and thoughts about being just a plaything for Baste were thrown out the window when he saw that radiant (and silly looking) smile.  
  
"You came here just to see me?" Sandro asked, unable to believe this was true.  
  
Baste set down his guitar on the grass and stepped towards Sandro slowly, as if he was gauging Sandro's reactions. "Yeah, you weren't picking up the phone, and you weren't answering my texts."  
  
Baste was walking slowly. But Sandro saw him getting closer and closer, until he was so close he could hold his hand.  
  
"The song, why...?"  
  
Baste chuckled again. "If I knocked on your door and you refuse to see me and I stay here, your mom and dad might get a restraining order against me," he said jokingly. Then his lips slowly formed into a small smile. "You know the lyrics to that song right? I don't think I have to explain any...."  
  
"Baste?"  
  
Sandro quickly took a step back and turned around to face his mom of all people. Apparently she had rushed down and followed her son out of the front door.  
  
"Ah Mrs. Marcos, um, sorry po sa bintana." (I apologize for the window). "I threw the rock too hard..."  
  
Liza sighed and raised her hand to massage her temple. "You two, inside now," she said as she turned around and walked back towards the house.  
  
Baste looked at Sandro worriedly. "Am I in trouble?"  
  
Sandro chuckled. "Nah, it's mom. Dad might scold you if he found out. But she'll offer you some tea or coffee. The window can be replaced, don't worry," he said as he walked beside Baste.  
  
Of course he knew the lyrics to that song, and he knew exactly what Baste had wanted to say.

 **Tayong Dalawa** ... huh?  
  
So it came as no surprise when he felt the presidential son's hand gently slip around his and quickly gave his hand a gently squeeze. Baste might have held it longer had Sandro's mom not been around, but for Sandro it was enough.  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is a song by my friend's band Kiss Jane. The song title is Tayong Dalawa. 
> 
> Look it up! It's a really amazing song <3 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, this isn't the end. In fact, this is just the start ;3  
> I was scared that it might be moving too fast, but I also think they're both very attracted to each other and Baste seems to be a man who knows and goes after what he wants.  
> They're not officially together yet, don't worry. It's just them confirming that the feelings are probably mutual. 
> 
> Think of this as them overcoming the first of many hurdles, their first baby step forward ;3
> 
> Finally, my bisaya is super rusty! I also mix it with my Ilongo >.


	7. Inauguration Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the time has come for Mayor Rodrigo Duterte to be officially sworn into office. With all the bigwigs in Malacanang and the media lurking in every corner, will Baste ever get the chance to see Sandro?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entering phase two of my plot :3
> 
> Now that they have addressed their feelings, it's time to introduce the other players in this story.
> 
> Also, I will not be updating this weekend as I will be going to a concert tomorrow and will have a photoshoot on Sunday.  
> Updates will resume on Monday, unless by some miracle I can finish a chapter in just a few hours. 
> 
> Finally I cannot stress enough how much your comments make me happy <3 thank you thank you soooo much!!!

Malacanang Palace, the bastion of Philippine democracy, was as busy as it can be today.

There was hardly any parking space left in Mendiola and JP Laurel. Even if you went past the checkpoints, there were no parking slots available. One would think that the schools near the checkpoints would provide some parking, but if one checked College of the Holy Spirit or St Jude, even those were completely full despite classes being suspended today, there were no parking spaces left.

The media was swarming by the hundreds. Vans of the main local networks were there, ABS-CBN, GMA, were at the forefront, with three vans ready and parked in front of the Palace since 5 in the morning. Next to them were the international news vans of CNN, BBC, Al Jazeera, and other international news channels.

Today, the eyes of the world were focused on the Philippines, because today was the day a humble man from the south would be sworn in as president.

Never has the Philippines elected anyone from the southern provinces for the position of president of the Republic. So this was a big moment for the country and the whole world would be there to witness this momentous occasion.

For the presidential son, Baste Duterte, it was a day he certainly was not looking forward to.

Of course he looked forward to seeing his father sworn into office. Of course he looked forward to seeing the first day of real change for the Philippines.

What he didn't look forward to was wearing that god awful national formal wear that is the barong tagalong.

He hated it. The look was fine. But the feel it had on his skin! It itched and he didn't like having his clothes buttoned all the way to the top, it felt like he was being constricted.

He couldn't keep the top buttons open on a barong tagalog. So he hated it.

Sara made sure that he had one ready for the occasion, and she had made sure that it was pressed and ready. She knew Baste enough to know that her younger brother would never take care of it. He would use ANY excuse to not wear a barong tagalog.

He glared at the barong from across the room. It was hanging innocently by his dresser and Baste was sitting at the other end of the room just glaring at it. It was a glaring contest he was bound to lose.

He grumbled something under his breath as the unmoving piece of garment refused to budge. He reached out and picked up his phone from his desk. There was a message from Sandro, and immediately the scary glaring face of Baste Duterte broke into a smile.

 

"Today's the big day. Are you done getting ready?" read the text from Sandro.

 

"The barong is glaring at me from across the room."

 

It took some time for Sandro to respond to his text, and Baste could only imagine him laughing at his response. It was one thing he found out recently, how easy it was to make Sandro laugh, and how much he wanted to see and hear him laughing like that.

 He wished he could hear it now. But they were both getting ready, so that will have to wait.

 

"I'm sure you're the one doing 100% of the glaring."

 

"That's not true. Barong tagalogs are out to get us."

 

 Again a pause, and again Baste could imagine the laughter.

 

"You act like a kid, man up and put it on."

 

"I'd rather go out in a t shirt."

 

"Your father put on one for today."

 

Baste sighed. Sandro had a point. His father hated formal wear too. If Baste was a simple man, Rodrigo Duterte was even more. But today the whole world was watching them, and it would not do them good to show that the first family couldn't even wear the local formal wear.

 

"Fine."

 

"Just put it on, it won't kill you. See you later."

 

"See you later too."

 

Baste put down his phone and finally stood up. "It's just you and me now," he grumbled as he walked towards the barong, with the intent of finally putting it on. Today, just today, he would bear with this piece of clothing.

 

*

 

The halls of the Malacanang Palace were filled with big names today. From top businessmen, to the best media anchors, to the biggest names in Philippine politics, everyone was there, eager to witness the momentous occasion.

Both Sara and Paolo, Baste's siblings, came to Manila from Davao that morning, sparing some time away from their constituents for this ceremony. They wanted to support their father through and through too.

Baste wanted to stay away from the bigwigs, but he realized he couldn't as they approached him despite him trying to stay away. He didn't remember most of their names, however, so he would need to ask  his sister about that later on. They all looked the same to him at this point. This was why he hated politics, the more you get exposed and the higher you go up the ladder, it was harder to see which people were genuine. He felt that they all had this smile they put on for show and Baste hated it.

Baste sighed as he finally managed to squeeze his way out of the crowd and leaned back against the wall at the far end of the hallway. He really didn't know how other people could put up with this. Just a few minutes and he already felt exhausted.

" _Di ka din mapakali?_ " (You can't stay calm either?)

Baste looked to his side and smiled. "Mam Leni."

" _Tita Leni nalang iho_." (Just call me Leni.)

Leni Robredo, the lady who would be serving the country with her father as the vice president of the Republic.

Baste actually liked her. She was a simple lady, and came from simple roots, much like his dad. Unlike his dad though, she was more calm and less prone to drastic measures. She was a perfect check for his father. Also, she had this motherly aura around her, which was really effective in calming down people around her.

"Tita Leni then, I like the sound of that," Baste said. "It's about time for the ceremony."

"I know, don't remind me," Leni said, as she took a deep breath. "I'm still nervous. I can't see how your father can do this without breaking a sweat."

"Well he's not known for backing down."

"There's that too." Leni took another deep breath to calm herself. "Ah, nerves," she mumbled softly.

Baste chuckled and shook his head. "You'll be fine Tta Leni," he said encouragingly. "Everyone thought you were the underdog in the race, but you won against all the big names, be confident.

Leni smiled at him. "Why thank you Sebastian, what a nice thing to say."

"Just call me Baste Tita Leni," Baste said sheepishly.

Leni was supposed to respond to Baste's words but was politely interrupted by a "If only he took his own advise more often," by a voice Baste knew very well by now.

Baste turned and saw Sandro there, with his sweet charming smile. He was dressed in an immaculate white suit, and he looked stunning in it, while Baste felt like he looked stupid in his barong. His hair was brushed and gelled to one side, giving him a Jose Rizal look. Baste usually laughed at that kind of hairstyle, because it looked goofy. However, on Sandro... it looked stunning.

"Ah Alexander," Leni said as she smiled at him. "It's nice to see you here. I didn't know you two boys knew each other."

Sandro offered her his warmest smile and extended his hand out for a formal handshake. "It's nice to see you again too Tita Leni," he said. "I offer you my congratulations. As for Baste, we've been bumping into each other during the campaign, it's to be expected."

"Thank you Alexander," Leni said as she smiled at him and shook his hand. "Is your father here too?" she asked, curious.

Sandro nodded and pointed in his father's direction. "He's with Auntie Imee."

"I see, thank you," she said as she turned to both boys and smiled at them both. "I'll see you boys around later ok," she said and then left the two boys to find her vice presidential rival in the crowd.

"You look good in a barong tagalog. I don't see what all the fuss was about."

Baste turned to Sandro and rolled his eyes. "Come on," he muttered as he tugged at the hem of his barong. "I look like an idiot."

"You do not, so stop saying that. I think it looks good on you," Sandro said as he reached out and used his palms to smooth out the creases on Baste's shoulders and chest.

Baste's rebuttal died down when he felt those gentle hands on him again. It was a friendly gesture, something he'd seen others do before, but Sandro's hands were just uniquely Sandro and it never failed to make his heart beat faster.

"You look good in a suit," he mumbled instead since his rebuttal never made it from his brain to his lips.

"Tita Imee picked it out for me," Sandro said as he eased out the final crease and kept his hands on Baste's chest for a few more seconds before taking them down. That lingering moment was enough for them both, they were in public after all.  "Ah that reminds me, there are some guys I want you to meet!"

Baste raised an eyebrow. "Guys? _Di pa nga tayo papalitan mo na ako agad_?" (We aren't even together yet and you're replacing me already?) he teased.

"No!" Sandro hissed, blushing slightly. "They're my cousins," he grumbled as he grabbed Baste's hand and tugged him along, leading him across the crowded room.

"I'm kidding," Baste said lightheartedly as he gave Sandro's hand a gentle squeeze. He felt Sandro squeeze his hand back and Baste grinned. But he didn't get the chance to tease him some more as Sandro stopped and Sandro was brought face to face with two young men.

"Guys, this is Baste Duterte," Sandro said as he let go of Baste's hand. "Baste, these are my cousins, Paolo Roxas and Brian Poe Llamanzares."

"Not your cousin, it hasn't been proven," Brian said with mild humor as he reached out his hand and offered it to Baste."I hear you've been making the ladies swoon. It's nice to meet you Baste," he said.

"I don't know what lies the media have been telling, but it's nice to meet you too," Baste said as he shook Brian's hand.

"But the rumors have not been too terrible on you, at least they got your image right. No wonder the girls are swooning and fighting to get a chance to date the relatively unknown and mysterious Duterte son." That last comment was from Paolo.

Baste  looked at Paolo and he had to bit his lower lip to keep himself from laughing. He wanted to laugh, but he didn't because Paolo was Sandro's cousin. Did Paolo really have to come here wearing a yellow collared shirt? Come on. At least he could have worn a suit or a barong for crying out loud. Yellow was his father's and the Liberal Party's (LP's) color after all, but come on.... he really had to wear that today? Didn't the memo say strictly formal attire?

Baste accepted the offered hand as well and smirked at Paolo, the son of one of the men his father defeated in the presidential race."Finally meeting the son of Mar Roxas. You can speak Chinese right?"

Paolo chuckled and nodded. "I studied in Beijing yes," he acknowledged. "But I'm getting slightly rusty because I haven't been practing."

"Paolo's amazing, he's just being humble," Sandro interrupted.

Baste nodded. Good thing he didn't comment about Paolo's shirt, it looks like Sandro was close to his cousin. "I'm sure he is. Can't even speak tagalog without having some Bisaya in there somewhere," Baste chuckled.

"Your Tagalog sounds fine, I sound like a foreigner sometimes," Said Sandro.

"That's because you stayed in England for a long time, of course your Tagalog won't be straight anymore," Paolo chuckled as he wrapped his arm around his cousin's shoulder, ready to give him a noogie on the head.

"Not today!" Sandro laughed and squirmed away from Paolo's hold. "I put effort to make my hair like this and you'll put a wrinkle on my suit!"

It was family banter, so he really shouldn't care. But, call it gut instinct, but Baste didn't completely trust this Paolo guy. The way he was clinging to Sandro was another thing, and Baste couldn't help the beginnings of what he could only describe as jealousy, from bubbling deep inside.

Before he could stop himself, his arm shot out and he tugged Sandro away from Paolo.

"Oh?" He could feel Paolo's eyes raise to his and a smile spread across those lips. Paolo didn't say anything more, but Baste felt the fakeness of that smile and the challenge in those eyes. He had to be careful of this one.

 

"His suit is white, if you keep teasing him it will wrinkle and it wouldn't look good in photos. His aunt wouldn't be happy if the suit she got him would look bad in photographs," Baste said to justify his action.

"Baste's right," Sandro said as he smoothed out his suit and shot Paolo a pouty glare. "Auntie Imee will be upset with me if I don't wear this suit well, she hand picked it for me when she went to Paris."

It was Baste whose eyebrows shot up this time. "Paris?"

Paolo stepped into the conversation swiftly. "My cousin gets only the best things the world can give."

Brian chuckled and shook his head. "I think both of you do," he said. "No offense Paolo. But your dad does give you everything you want and Korina has been known to shower you with expensive gifts ever since she got married to your dad."

Paolo shrugged. "Well good blood needs the best environment to grow. We can't flourish if we don't have the best, can we?" he asked Brian.

Somehow, Baste could slowly feel his good mood slipping away. He definitely didn't like this Paolo guy. Good blood and good environment? They didn't have all the luxuries in Davao but they all grew up well, so what the hell was he talking about.... Oh. Did Paolo just insult him  so casually? Just because he was not from a political family or a well known family in from the north? Was that what he had meant by good blood?

Baste could feel his blood boil. Who the hell did this motherfucker think he was? He clenched his fists at his sides, trying with all his might to contain his anger inside.

But then he felt a gentle hand rest on his forearm, low and out of sight, away from seeing eyes. Sandro was trying to calm him down.

"I say a person's heart is the most important. Where we come from, who our fathers or grandfathers are aren't that important," Sandro said, making both Paolo and Brian look his way. "Ah, if you'll excuse me, I still haven't introduced Baste to Auntie Imee," he said quickly and then just as quickly dragged Baste away from Brian and Paolo.

Baste let himself be dragged along, staying quiet as they wove through the crowd.

He knew where Imee and BongBong Marcos were, he remembered the direction that Sandro had pointed Leni to earlier. They were definitely not going there, because that location was in the other direction.

 Sandro had dragged him away from the gathered crowd, away from the media, away from everyone. He only stopped walking when he had dragged Baste out of the hall and into the spacious corridor that led to the kitchen.

"Hey, why'd you drag me out...." But Baste didn't finish what he watched Sandro stand in front of him, head down. He knew this look, knew it enough by now. "Come here," Baste sighed and gently wrapped his arms around Sandro's torso. "Hey... don't look so down," he said, trying to keep his voice low and steady, to keep it from reflecting the initial jealousy and eventual anger he felt for Brian.

"I'm sorry for what Paolo said," Sandro said as Baste pulled him close, his voice muffled slightly by Baste's clothes.

"Why are you apologizing for him? You didn't do anything wrong."

"He's spoiled and he has to deal with his step mom so he does a lot of things to get attention. Sometimes he's not careful with what he says."

"That doesn't excuse him from..."

"I know, that's why I'm apologizing!"

Baste sighed and placed his hand on Sandro's neatly gelled hair. "You know I can't say no to you?"

Silence and then Baste could feel and see Sandro'S head moving up and down, nodding his affirmative. He smiled and pressed a soft kiss on Sandro's forehead. "I've missed you," he murmured softly.

It has been a few days since the last time they saw each other, when he had gone and sang his heart out to get Sandro to come out and give him another chance. He was just reallllly lucky that Sandro's mom had not stayed that long in his room with the broken window to actually hear the rest of the song. Otherwise they would have LOTS of explaining to do.  
  
She had let him off with a few choice words about broken windows, but later dismissed it as boys doing what boys did.  
  
They weren't officially dating, and if Baste was asked, they should be on the stage between him wooing Sandro and them being in an MU situation. But with all the preparations for the ceremony today, they didn't really get enough time for themselves.  
  
"Texting and calling over the phone are both not enough," Sandro murmured as he stayed where he was, hugging Baste like this.  
  
"I know Sands, ako man _Gimingaw pud ko sa imo_ ," (I missed you) Baste repeated, but this time in his native dialect. "I promise when this is all over, I'll give you as much time for us to hang out together," he promised. "Ok?" He tugged Sandro back slightly, making a small distance between them so he could smile down at him. "Now wipe that look off your face ok?" he said softly as he gently caressed Sandro's cheek.  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Promise," Baste said. "As soon as this is all over I ...."  
  
"Sir Duterte?"  
  
Baste almost jumped when he heard the voice of the Palace aide behind him, and Sandro quickly jumped back and away from him. Thankfully the aide came from behind Baste and didn't see what position they were in before she interrupted.  
  
"Ah is it time?" Baste asked, hoping to god that he wasn't flushed right now.  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Alright, I'll be right there." Baste nodded at her. She gave her affirmative and walked away.  
  
"Sheesh... a _atakihin naman ako sa puso nito eh_ ,"(I'm going to get a heart attack) Baste muttered as he ran his hand through his hair. "I'll try to find you again later ok? If everything's over and I still can't find you, I'll call," he promised as he leaned in and gave Sandro a quick peck on the cheek.  
  
Obviously Sandro didn't expect that. He let out a soft squeak and his face instantly flushed bright red.  
  
Baste smirked, happy with the reaction he had gotten. "See you!" he said as he turned around to go back to the hall where his father would be officially sworn into office.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know Paolo Roxas. I do think he is a good person. So everything I write about him, is all part of my imagination. It's all part of the story ^^
> 
> Beautiful artwork by @izajena and posted with permission (Please follow her on twitter!! She drew this just how i imagined it it's amazing <3 )


	8. Secret Spots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Rody Duterte is being sworn into office, will our two lovers even find each other in the crowd?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! It's been a busy few days at work ;A; Also updates may be delayed because work is just draining me right now. Apologies for that.  
> But!!! The plot is moving and i managed to include a sweet scene between our lovebirds.

Sandro stayed at the back of the hall as Baste's father was sworn into office. He could see Baste close to the podium with his siblings. But he was obviously uncomfortable and shying away from the limelight. Even from the distance, he could tell that Baste wanted to hide somewhere, to be anywhere but here, where the media's cameras were pointing from all directions.  
  
Whether it was obvious or just obvious for Sandro was another thing altogether.  
  
Baste's father, Rodrigo Duterte, made a joke and everyone started to laugh. But all Sandro Marcos noticed was the way Baste used that distraction to adjust the collar on his barong tagalog. It made him smile at the futile way Baste tried to adjust his collar. No one else saw this, everyone was watching the new president and listening to his every word, and everyone missed how cute Baste was being.  
  
Sandro was sure that Baste could not see him in the crowd, especially with all those lights flashed by the media to get better footage.  
  
"Poor thing, you look so out of your element," he said softly.  
  
"Who? Digong?"  
  
Sandro had been so focused on Baste he didn't notice that Paolo had found him in the crowd and was standing right next to him.  
  
"Ah Paolo," hs said in greeting. "I didn't notice you there."  
  
Paolo chuckled and leaned against the wall beside Sandro. "You were so focused on Digong's speech."  
  
"Yeah I was," Sandro lied. "Why aren't you with Uncle Mar?"  
  
"Oh dad?" Paolo shrugged. "He said he had some things to discuss with some senators so I lost sight of him earlier. That's why I was hanging out with Brian earlier."  
  
"Hmmm I see," Sandro said, not really paying attention as he watched Baste adjust his collar again.  
  
"You're not usually this interested in politics."  
  
"Hm?" Sandro asked, not bothering to  turn his head to look at Paolo because his full attention was on Baste and his unending battle with his barong tagalog collar.  
  
  
"The last time we had a presidential inauguration you said you couldn't be bothered by something like this."  
  
"Did I say that?"    
  
Paolo sighed and nodded. "Yes you did. Are you having short term memory loss now?"  
  
"I'm way too young to be losing my memory," Sandro responded, his eyes still on Baste.  
  
"That you are, so I don't think you would have forgotten."  
  
Sandro hadn't. He really had no interest in politics. He loved his father and his Lola Imelda, and his Auntie Imee, but he had no intention of following in their footsteps. Growing up in the shadow of his grandfather's legacy (good or bad, depending on who you ask), he had no intention of going into this world.  
  
Sandro sighed and finally tore his eyes from Baste to look at his cousin. "What makes you think I've developed an interest in politics?"  
  
"Because Tita Liza told me you were supposed to go back to England when the campaign was over."  
  
  
Sandro's eyes widened slightly and he bit his inner cheek. He was supposed to go back last week that was true. He still had school after all, he wasn't done yet. But he couldn't tell Baste, didn't want to tell him. He had already skipped a term to come to Manila to help his dad's campaign and he had to go back soon if he wanted to finish is degree on time. He had cancelled his ticket, much to his mother's surprise.  
  
"I wanted to stay an extra few weeks, is that so bad? Besides I can't leave right when dad lost, what kind of son would I be?"  Sandro lied. "You can't just leave your dad after his loss either right?"  
  
"Hmm I see," Paolo said, not seeming to buy it but not pushing the topic further either. "As long as it's not something else that's distracting you, or someone..... I don't want you getting distracted from your goals. You have way too much potential."  
  
Sandro laughed it off, though he didn't fail to pick up on Paolo's emphasis on the word "someone". "Paolo, I'm not easily distracted. I know what I want, and I'll achieve what I want." Liar, he knew he was distracted completely, and as for what he wanted, he didn't even know what that was anymore. His thoughts were all filled witih Baste and his future plans were still there but with the added condition of Baste's presence.  
  
"If you say so," Paolo said.  
  
"When have I ever lied to you?" Sandro asked. Twice in this conversation, but who was counting?  He didn't have the chance to follow up on that statement as the whole room erupted in cheers and deafening applause. The republic of the Philippines has a new president elect.  
  
Sandro's eyes quickly went to the podium. The media was swarming the new first family and he could barely make out Baste making a run for it. "Ah, I'll see you later cous," he said distractedly as he made his way to Baste, leaving Paolo alone by the wall.  
  
At least he tried to get to Baste. With the media swarming the new president, they also wanted a chance to photograph and perhaps interview the president's family.  
  
They were an enigma even to the media. This humble family from Davao suddenly rising up in the ranks and becoming the most important family in the country? Who wouldn't want a story on that?  
  
Sandro tried to force his way through the crowd, but there was no way he could so he stood back, a pout forming on his lips just slightly as he could see how Baste smiled at the cameras.  
  
"And here I thought you didn't like the limelight," he muttered as he crossed his arms.  
  
"Well he doesn't really have a choice."  
  
Sandro almost jumped when he heard that voice beside him. Why was he so easy to sneak up on today?  
  
"Tita Leni?"  
  
The new vice president chuckled and smiled at Sandro. "It's not that he wants the limelight, but that's the thing with media, you have to give them something so that they will give you space, or else they will hound you forever and invade your privacy, I'm sure that's what he wants to avoid."  
  
"Yeah, Digong sure knows how to play his cards."  
  
"I'm talking about his son."  
  
Sandro almost did a mental backflip. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully. This woman was sharper than he thought.  
  
Leni let out a soft laugh and turned to look at Sandro instead of the media swarm in front of them. "Don't underestimate a woman's intuition Alexander," she said with a knowing glint in her eye. "It's just the way you and Baste look at each other. But don't worry it's not super obvious, I just have a really sharp eye for these things."  
  
Sandro could feel his face and ears getting warm. He was blushing, he knew he was.  
  
Leni chuckled once more and shook her head. "Your secret is safe with me."  
  
"Why would I trust you?" Sandro muttered, his mind turning blank even as he scrambled to find a way out of this.  
  
Leni shrugged and shook her head. "You definitely don't have a reason to," she said. "But if you want to talk to him at all today, you'll have to trust me."  
  
Sandro narrowed his eyes at her. She was not making any sense. She could reveal this and destroy both his and Baste's reputation in the blink of an eye. These types of relationships are looked down by the prominently Catholic country, and the media would just lap this story up and sensationalize it out of proportion. If he wasn't careful this could spell trouble for both his and Baste's family.  
  
"Oh come on child. I don't have to result to dirty tactics. I'm not that kind of person."  
  
Sandro still didn't believe her.  
  
Leni sighed and motioned for Sandro to move back and out of the room, shooing him away. "I guess actions should speak louder than words then. Now go, wait for him outside."  
  
"What?" Sandro was confused. He really didn't understand what Leni was trying to do.  
  
Leni rolled her eyes. "Just trust me young Marcos," she chided as she finally succeeded in shooing the pouting Sandro out of the hall and into the corridor.  
  
Sandro hated to be told what to do. And really, who was Leni Robredo to tell him what to do? And there was also the problem of her KNOWING, just knowing what it was between Baste and him. Sandro didn't even know what to call it even, because they were seeing each other, texting and calling every night, but they weren't together even if they knew of each other's mutual feelings.  
  
He bit his lower lip, different scenarios going through his head. What if right now Leni was telling the media about them? What if, it was her way of getting negative attention on the Duterte family? If Baste's father got bad rep because of it.... it would all be Sandro's fault, right? If only he wasn't there. If only she hadn't noticed.  
  
He paced outside the door, uneasy and just really worried. He hoped he hadn't caused trouble for Baste and his family.  
  
After what felt like an eternity (but was really just only five minutes), the doors creaked open and one grinning Baste Duterte quickly slipped out.  
  
"Tita Leni is an ANGEL," he breathed as he quickly went to Sandro's side.  
  
Sandro had been expecting a panicked Baste, or a flood of media personnel going after them both. So when he was met with this adorable grinning man, he couldn't help but feel relieved.  
  
"So I take it she didn't tell the media?"  
  
"Hell no," Baste grinned even wider and reached down to grab Sandro's hand. "She's such an angel," he repeated again as he dragged Sandro with him in the direction away from the inauguration area, but Sandro had no idea where they were headed.  
  
"What... where are we going? Your role isn't done yet! My dad's gonna look for me too!" Sandro exclamed as he was dragged along.Although he didn't really resist much. Baste's hand around his calmed him down and really he couldn't say no to Baste.  
  
"We don't have a lot of time, but we can have some time for ourselves."  
  
"What? Are you out of your mind?" Sandro asked, as he was dragged along still. "Now is not the time, ALL the local media networks are here! We can't risk being caught!"  
  
Baste kept dragging Sandro without any answer and Sandro wasn't very happy with this anymore. "Sebastian Duterte, where are you taking me?!"  
  
Baste finally stopped and Sandro almost rammed into him because of the suddenness. But thankfully he was able to stop in time. Baste reached down into his pocket and took out a small crumpled note. He handed it to Sandro with a wide grin on his lips.  
  
Sandro frowned slightly and took the piece of paper and smoothed it out enough to read the what was written on it.  
  
"List of places in Malacanang off limits to the press"  
  
"List of places off limits to anyone except the first family."  
  
"List of places off limits to everyone - places no one really checks"  
  
Find your spot, good luck!"  
  
Sandro's eyes widened and he turned to Baste, who still had a wide grin. "We can finally have time together. They'll never find us, come on!" he said as he started tugging him along again.  
  
Maybe Leni wasn't such a bad person after all, Sandro thought as he let himself be pulled along by Baste once more.  
  
"You really thought she would tell the media about us?" Baste asked as they continued on.  
  
Sandro nodded and squeezed Baste's hand. "I was afraid."  
  
"I know," Baste said softly as he suddenly took a sharp right turn and quickly pinned Sandro to the wall. "I could tell. I could see you even while the media swarmed us at the end of the ceremony."  
  
Sandro let out a soft gasp as he was pinned to the wall. He hadn't been expecting it... well at least not this quickly, and the action had his heart beating like crazy. He was panting from all the running they did and his heart felt like it was pounding against his chest and  echoing in his ears.  
  
He never considered himself to be a tiny man, he was average height at the very least. But when he was pinned against the wall by one Baste Duterte, boy did he feel small.  
  
"But I'm here now, there's no reason to be afraid anymore. I think we can trust her," Baste said as he leaned down to gently press a kiss on to Sandro's cheek, his moustache and lip ring tickling Sandro's skin.  
  
"I just wanted to make sure..." Sandro whispered as he hesitantly reached up to place his hands on Baste's strong chest. His cheeks turning bright pink when he felt Baste's heartbeat. It was beating faster than his own.  
  
"You were scared because of me, of what it would do to my father's presidency," Baste murmured as he pressed another kiss to Sandro's cheek, lower this time. "You care too much for people, I don't deserve you. But here you are, in my arms, with me..... mine," Baste murmured as he moved his lips gently over Sandro's.  
  
Sandro felt like his chest would burst, and he couldn't focus on Baste as his eyes fluttered shut.  
  
It was their first kiss, their first real kiss and he would savor it for as long as he was allowed to.  
  
  
*  
  
  
 At that same moment, in a small shanty outside the city of General Santos, a phone rang continuously into the night.  
  
It was only when a man in tattered clothing picked it up that the ringing finally stopped.  
  
_"Tumawag kayo boss? Tapos na election ah, wala nako magagawa para sa  inyo_." (You're calling boss? Elections are over, there's nothing I can do for you anymore."  
  
" _Actually meron pa_." (Actually there is.)  
  
The man on the receiving end of the line smirked. " _Magkano kapalit_?" (How much in exchange?)  
  
"The usual..... doubled."  
  
If possible, the man's smirk widened. " _Nakikinig ako boss_." (I'm listening boss.)  
  
"All I need is information. As much as you can gather and as fast as you can."  
  
" _Copy boss. Sino target_?" (Got it boss, who's the target?"  
  
" _Ung bunsong lalake ni Digong._ " (Digong's youngest son.)  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I'm sure people already have an idea (or ideas) on who that mysterious caller is. I'll try my best not to spoil it (I give spoilers way too easily. Also, I have only been to some parts of Malacanang. But I've only seen like 1% of its interior? so i'm basically making up what is actually inside the Palace with places that would suit my plot ^^ Also, sorry this was a bit short, but work has been terribly busy today. It will be busy for the whole week too, so updates may take longer from this week onwards ;A; I'll still try to update as much as I can though.


	9. Cakes, Coffee, and Photographs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally their first date! But will it end well or not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV wise, this chapter has both Baste and Sandro POVs, so I apologize if it becomes confusing. 
> 
> First part is in Baste's POV and the second part is in Sandro's.
> 
> Thankfully I was able to write fast today, but the next parts may take longer. I usually post update announcements on Twitter if i finish the unchecked version (usually hours before the actual update) , so you can follow me there if you want updates on the chapters. My Twitter is @nicolebenelli for those interested.

 

\----  
Cakes, Coffee, and Photographs  
\----

The thing that changed the most for Baste since moving to the Malacanang Palace was having to walk a distance equivalent to the distance between his room and garage back home in Davao whenever he needed food. Unlike their home, the Palace had the living quarters separated from everything else, so you had to walk a lot to get from one place or another.

Baste had just showered and had on a dark navy blue polo shirt. It was different from his usual T-shirt and jeans look. He even had his hair combed back slightly. His wavy locks were stubborn though, and they refused to stay styled. It took him way too much time to get ready, and he was running late. He didn't have time for breakfast, so he decided to just have a cup of coffee.

" _Ang laki naman ng ngiti mo ngayong umaga,_ " (Such a large grin you have on your face this morning) came a lighthearted quip as Baste walked into the kitchen.

Why the kitchen you may ask? Because Rody and his whole family decided to just use the small kitchen table in the kitchen and save money on electricity and maintenance by not using the overly large dining area in the Palace.

It was too big, so big that they wouldn't hear each other talk if they dined there, Rody had said, and Baste agreed with his father completely. It was way too big a room for them.

  
Baste chuckled and walked towards his father and shrugged. "I woke up on the right side of the bed I guess."

" _Bihis na bihis ka ah, may lakad ka_?" (You're dressed up today, going somewhere?) Rody asked as Baste went to the counter to make some coffee.

Baste nodded as he stirred hot water into his coffee. " _Opo"_ (Yes dad). He cradled his coffee mug in his hands and made his way to the table and took a seat beside his father. "I need to go to the PAL office first and then meet up with some friends later on."

Rody paused his eating to look at his son again. "PAL? Are you going somewhere and not telling me anything?"

Baste chuckled and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "It was a sudden decision. Even my friends don't know about it." He sipped at his coffee and then glanced at his watch. "I'll give you the details later when I get back home, I'm kind of running late already."

"Fine. Don't tell me anything."

Baste chuckled and waved his hand dismissively at his father. "I won't go far. And I'll be back tomorrow anyway. Besides, you have more children to think of now, the whole country is your family now dad."

"I know," Rody mumbled as he continued eating his food. "Don't remind me. _Ikaw naman, basta ingat lang, wag ka sumabak sa gulo._ " (As for you, just be careful and don't get into any trouble.)

"Yes sir," Baste said as he finished his coffee and left it in the sink before dashing out of the kitchen.

*

Sandro was fidgeting. He never fidgets. Fidgeting was a sign of nervousness and why would he be nervous when he was just sitting in a coffee shop?

_Because you're waiting for Baste that's why,_ his head supplied for him.

Sandro took a deep breath, hoping to god that he wasn't blushing. This would be their first date, though in Baste's terms it was probably more of a hangout than a date. But whatever they wished to call it, this would be the first time they would be seen in public, together.

Whatever the media or the public would make of it, that was totally up to them.

Being branded as close friends would be the best scenario, the media would probably not jump into quick conclusions that they were dating, no one would think that. In this country that was predominantly Catholic, being gay would not be the first reason the media would come up with so Sandro was confident they wouldn't use that angle unless he and Baste did something totally and unmistakeably romantic in public. 

So, perhaps, worst scenario would probably be them branding Sandro as his father's way of getting close to the Dutertes. It was absurd, but it was a story local media would be capable of spinning.

He frowned slightly and worried his lower lip as he thought of the different scenarios, and he was so caught up in it that he no longer felt nervous. That and also he didn't notice that Baste had already arrived and was making his way to his table.

"Stop frowning, doesn't suit you."

Sandro snapped out of it and blinked. When did Baste get here?

Baste smiled at him from across the table and he could already feel his heartbeat go faster again. He had dressed up today,  and Sandro's mind went blank. He looked good in a loose button down shirt. It accentuated his torso just right, unlike those t shirts that he usually wore.... although those accentuated his body in a different way. He had even styled his hair, and those lips... he found his eyes drawn to them and his traitor of a brain supplying him with the memory of those lips on his ....

This man really had such an effect on him, he couldn't even think straight! It felt like one thought was merging with another. He couldn't form coherent thoughts, it was embarrassing!

"You haven't ordered anything yet?" Baste asked casually.

Sandro shook his head, clearing it and hoping that his brain would just resume its normal function and not act like a pile of mush in his head. "I was waiting for you."

He was also hoping that he didn't look like a red faced idiot right now.

"What do you want? My treat, since I asked you out." Baste took the menu and laid it out on the table, facing Sandro. But because it was facing Sandro, Baste could not see, so he scooted over so that they were now seated side by side instead of facing each other.

  
"Baste, not too close," Sandro muttered, already feeling his cheeks turning pinker and his brain once again turning to mush.

Not only did Baste not move away, he moved even closer, until their arms touched. "You weren't this shy last week in the Palace."

Sandro felt his cheeks definitely burn at that statement. All they shared last time was a kiss, it was just a kiss, but it was their first kiss. It was Sandro's first time kissing a guy, and the first time he was swept off his feet so easily. Baste was good at kissing, and he knew just how to make Sandro melt.

It would have lasted for longer if only Sandro's knees didn't fail him back then. Because they did and he ended up falling and bumping their heads together when Baste tried to save him (and his immaculate white suit) from the floor.

They had laughed it off at that time, but it was really embarrassing and Sandro wanted the ground to just swallow him whole at that point.

"Heh, cute," Baste chuckled as he flipped the pages on the menu, not moving away an inch.

"Don't call me cute!" Sandro said indignantly as he tried to move away, but he had made the wrong choice of choosing a seat that was directly beside a wall. So the more he scooted away from Baste, the more he was caged between two things. "Stop teasing me," he mumbled.

Baste chuckled again and finally eased up, no longer pressing against Sandro's side. But he still stayed closer than usual. "So... what did you want to order?"

"I haven't looked at the menu yet," Sandro murmured as he tried to keep his attention on the menu and not on Baste's lips that were still close enough to distract him even if Baste had moved away a bit already.

"What about desserts? Everyone loves desserts," Baste said as he flipped the pages until he reached the dessert page.

Sandro nodded. He liked sweets with his coffee. "Their strawberry cake looks good..."

"Hmmm I agree. What else looks good?"

"Hmmm... tiramisu, this devils cake looks good too... the black forest one too. Ah I can't choose."

"Then we're getting all of them," Baste said casually as he raised his arm and called for a waiter.

"What?! No! I can't finish all of those!" Sandro said quickly.

"Shhh, you can take them home if you can't finish them," Baste said as he finally made eye contact with a waiter, who came running to their table when he saw who it was.

"Sir Duterte!" the waiter exclaimed and Baste quickly waved his hand dismissively.

 " _Walang special treatment ah_ ,"(no special treatment) Baste said and the waiter just nodded really quickly. Sandro wasn't sure if the waiter was nervous or excited, maybe both.

"Yes sir!" the waiter said quickly.

"Good," Baste said approvingly as he looked down at the menu again. "So, one slice of strawberry cake, tiramisu, black forest, and devil cake. One decaf coffee for Mr Marcos, and one Americano for me."

"Sir, should I serve all of these together?"

Baste nodded and the waiter went off.

Sandro would have gotten pissed or annoyed at Baste for ordering all the cakes he liked from the menu despite what Sandro said, but for one tiny detail. "How did you know I preferred decaf?" he asked Baste slowly.

Baste shrugged like it was no big deal. "You said you loved Salabat the most out of all teas when we had lunch in Ilocos.  Salabat is caffeine free. Also,  when I went to your house and your mom served us drinks after I broke your window, she and I had the same coffee from the same coffee maker, yours wasn't. I just kind of put two and two together. Call it a lucky guess."

Sandro stared as Baste just casually explained that as if it was no big deal. But it was, it was a big deal for Sandro. Baste just proved that he was attentive to the things Sandro liked. He was attentive to the things Sandro said and did, and he remembered them.

"Are you always this attentive?" he asked slowly.

"Attentive to what?" Baste asked.

"To the small details," Sandro clarified.

Baste shrugged again. "I was told I was bad at small details. But with you, I just notice everything. I can't help it."

Sandro's eyes widened slightly and a renewed blush spread across his cheeks. "Baste..." he murmured softly as he reached down beneath the table and searched for Baste's. When he found it, he held it and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you." Because that meant more, way more than being told sweet nothings or being told I love you. To know that this man who has the whole nation's attention, had his attention focused solely on him, it made Sandro's heart swell and his whole body feel warm.

Baste smiled at him, not the teasing smile, not his goofy smile either, just this genuinely happy smile. "You're worth it," he responded as he moved his hand slightly so he could lace their fingers together. "Very much worth it Ferdinand Alexander Marcos III," he said as he used his thumb to rub the back of Sandro's hand.

If Sandro was blushing earlier, his face would be the color of a plump ripe tomato by now.

"Don...Don't say embarrassing things out here in public," he hissed, trying to hide his embarrassment.

This time Baste's teasing smirk slowly came back as he responded with, "Don't pretend you don't enjoy it, because if the color of your face is any indication, you're clearly enjoying this."

"Baste Duterte!" Sandro exclaimed as he used his free hand to hit Baste's chest, not enough to hurt thought, because he actually did really enjoy all these sweet things that Baste did.

Baste laughed and untangled their fingers as he pulled away. He stood up and turned to Sandro, "I'm taking a pee break, take this time to decide if you enjoy it or not, then we can negotiate. But you need to be honest," he added the last part with a wink before walking off.

Sandro could feel his face burning. Baste could read him so easily it was so embarrassing!

  
He hid his face in his hands as he muttered, "Sandro, get a grip!" to himself. He took a deep breath and slammed his hands down on to the table to get himself to calm down. He made sure it wasn't loud enough to distract the other patrons, but the slight pain in his palms kind of brought him back to reality for a bit.

The action moved the table just a tiny bit and it caused Baste's bag, which he had under the table, to tip and spill some of its contents on the floor.

Sandro blinked and then peeked under the table when he heard the soft thud of the bag falling on the floor. He didn't even know Baste had his bag down there, well he didn't notice Baste was there until he started talking anyway. "Is Davao so safe that you are used to not closing your bag you idiot?" he muttered as he bent down and tried to pick back the spilled out contents.

He picked them up one by one and stuffed them inside the bag messily. "So that next time you will learn to close your bag so it does not spill and I don't have to pick anything up after you...." he muttered. Then his eyes zeroed in on a familiar looking item in the pile of items on the floor... a plane ticket?

He picked it up and only managed to see the destination before he heard the waiter's footsteps and he quickly stuffed the plane ticket into the bag as well. He quickly lifted his head and offered the waiter a small smile as he placed their orders down on their table.

He didn't even notice how sweetly enticing the cakes were right now, because his mind was just focused on one question.

Why did Baste have a plane ticket to Davao?

 

*

Sandro had intended to ask Baste about it, but in the end he had chickened out. They weren't even a couple yet and he was already doubting the guy?  
The rest of the date had been fun.  Baste basically complained about life in Malacanang, and Sandro talked mostly about his classes in Europe.  Baste had eased up on the teasing after e got back.

They finished their coffee and cakes and Baste even made sure he had some to take home so he could share it with his brothers and his parents.

He was so sweet and caring, and it didn't seem like he was trying to hide anything...so why was Sandro worried?

Maybe he had to go to help his sister? Or maybe he had to go and check on his business? He hadn't been to Davao in a while and Sandro was sure that he needed to check his business too.  
Yes maybe that was it. Sandro felt stupid for doubting.

"Sir Sandro?"

Sandro snapped out of his thoughts as he heard a soft female voice from outside his bedroom door. "Yes po?" he asked. It was the voice of one of their househelps. But in the middle of the night? They usually called him only if he had a phone call, if it was time for a meal, if his parents needed him, or if he had a visitor. He didn't hear the phone ring, and it was late, his parents would be asleep and no one would be visiting him at this hour.

" _Sir may sulat po kayo_." (Sir you have a letter in the mail.)

A letter? Sandro frowned. Who would send him a letter? His friends would call or text him, no one he knew uses snail mail anymore.

"Are you sure it's for me and not for dad or mom?"

"Sure po sir," the househelp said. "The dogs sniffed it out too sir, _di naman po delikado_." (It doesn't seem dangerous.)

Sandro sighed and finally got up from his bed to open the door. "Thank you," he said as he took the small airmail envelope from the househelp's hands.

"Who would write me a letter?" he wondered as he walked over to his desk and sat down. He turned the envelope over. No return address. Really strange. He frowned and tore the envelope open.

What he saw inside made his blood run cold. It felt like time had stopped and he didn't have the strength to hold on to the flimsy envelope.

Inside the envelope was one photograph and one piece of paper.

On the paper was written, " _Pansamantala ka lang._ " (You're only the temporary)

And with it was a photo of Baste, a woman, and two children sharing a huge loving hug at Davao Airport, with today's date printed on the bottom of the photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok the last part was originally "Kabit ka lang" but then i changed it because Baste isn't married so technically he can't have a mistress? so i chose pansamantala instead because it hurts more. Why? Because it doesn't say that Baste does not love him, rather it says that he does but only for a certain amount of time and then he'll be left for the real lover and this hurts more for our baby Sandro. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the angst >.
> 
> Again the beautiful art of crying baby Sandro is by @izajena (please follow her on twitter!"


	10. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandro is dealing with his heartbreak like any normal person - drowning his sadness and anger with alcohol. How long will this last and what with Baste do when he comes back and finds Sandro like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Readers in the comments section have narrowed down their suspects to Leni Robredo or Paolo Roxas. I had no intention of keeping the perpetrator in the dark because initially this fanfic was just written on the fly and I had only planned for a max of 10 chapters. That's not happening now because it has transformed into something else entirely as I continue writing it. It warms my heart to know that people actually discuss/talk about this (some even stressed out about it). So, to keep everyone on the edge of their seats, I will keep that perpetrator in the dark for a longer time and keep you all guessing :DDD It should keep the fanfic more interesting that way :) Thank you all for your support and I'm glad you all had fun reading this.

 

�`�`�`  
Missing  
�`�`�`

Early in the morning, at one of the posh clubs in Taguig City, one nervous manager hesitated to approach the young group of men still partying on the dance floor and drinking booze at the bar counter. They were about to close but how could he tell that to the group that was led by none other than the children of Mar Roxas and BongBong Marcos?

It wasn't the first time the group of young men had come to this club, but it was the first time he had seen the young Marcos so wasted. He usually was the one who was the voice of reason, and was the one who would tell his friends that it was time to leave.

This time, he was the one who was the most wasted. His voice was slurred and his steps unsure. It was a miracle he still hadn't passed out after all the alcohol he had ingested.

But Sandro was far from done with the night.

The sweet taste of alcohol, and the loud ringing of EDM over the speakers overwhelmed Sandro. He could hardly thing straight, but this was just what he wanted. He didn't have a sense of time anymore, having no idea if it was still night or if it was already morning. If he was thinking straight, he would be embarrassed at how he looked like now.

He was slumped over the bar counter, pile of glasses scattered around him. His face was half planted on the cool table. It was a far cry from the young confident Marcos the country witnessed delivering the speech for his father.

Right now, he just wanted to drink, and forget.

Forget that bastard Baste, that smooth talking Southerner who played him.

In his drunken haze, he could see Baste, that bastard, grinning at him from across the bar."Fuck you!" he growled as he grabbed his glass and threw it at the nearest wall, right where his mind supplied him a vision of Baste's face. The gasps around him were ignored by the young Marcos scion. He didn't care. He wanted to hurt him, to hit his smug face. How dare he?!

He grabbed another glass and prepared to throw it again, but a hand on his stopped him.

"Fuck you, let go!" he growled as he tried to break away from the tight grip.

"Cous," Paolo chastised as he kept his grip on Sandro's wrist firm without hurting his cousin. "When you called me out to party and drink, I was game. But I'm not gonna watch you destroy other people's property."

"Let me go!" Sandro yelled out like a spoiled child.

"Sandro Marcos," Paolo sighed as he shook his head.

"No!" Sandro tore his hand away from Paolo's hold and threw another glass at the wall.

Paolo sighed and finally let go and stopped trying to stop his cousin from throwing the glasses. They could pay for it anyway. It was just the image of his cousin that he was worried about. "Tita Liza will be worried that you're out of the house for so long."

"I'm not going home!" Sandro cried out. "He'll find me there! I don't want to see his face!"

Paolo sighed again and grabbed his wallet as he left his cousin. He slipped away from the dance floor and made his way to the poor nervous manager. "This should cover the glasses he's destroying, plus our fees for extending past your closing hours," he said as he handed over his card. "Also, how much to buy your silence regarding this?"

 

*

 

Baste felt rejuvenated as he stepped off his plane. Having taken an evening flight, Manila wasn't as hot as it usually was.

He was excited to be back in Manila, for the first time in a long time.

The last time he came here, he was annoyed that he had to leave his home town but did it out of duty for his dad anyway. This time, he was actually looking forward to coming back.

He didn't miss the traffic and the general lack of discipline and peace and order, but if it meant seeing Sandro, then he would bear with all those negative sides of Manila.

The talk back home had gone more smoothly than he had anticipated, and he was really looking forward to seeing Sandro and giving him the good news.

He had turned off his phone for the whole duration of his stay in Davao, a mere three days, as he focused his attention on clearing up things and making sure that nothing was left amiss. It was a sensitive issue and he had to make sure all aspects of it was cleared before he came back to Manila. He didn't miss his phone. But he did miss texting and talking to Sandro.

So, as he stepped off the plane, he took out his phone and switched it on. He was expecting a barrage of text messages from Sandro, demanding where he was and why he couldn't be contacted. Sandro was cute when he was flustered or panicked, kind of reminding him of a kitten with raised hackles, hissing fitfully but still really cute. Besides, if he was upset with him for disappearing, it would make the surprise that much more impactful.

But as his phone loaded, there were no messages from Sandro. Not even one. But Baste didn't have time to dwell on it because there was a barrage of text messages from another person.

Baste frowned, why would Sandro's mother be sending him so many text messages?

He didn't bother to read the text messages. If she was sending him this many, he would rather call her and get the full message than read her text messages one by one.

He dialed her number and he didn't have to wait long. Two rings and she picked up his call already.

"Baste! Oh thank god you finally picked up!"

Baste frowned. When he met Liza Marcos, she was calm and had a soft tone to her voice. Despite him breaking the window, she hadn't raised her voice the same way his sister Sara would. So this panicked voice of Liza Marcos was enough to get Baste on high alert.

"Tita, sorry I wasn't able to get your call. I was in Davao on urgent business and I just got off the plane..."

"It's about Sandro."

Baste's frown deeper, his full attention on what Mrs. Marcos would say. "What's wrong with Sandro?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line and when Liza came back on, her voice was shaking slightly. "He hasn't been home in three days Baste."

Baste could feel his grip tighten around his phone. His mind was already racing with possibilities and scenarios. Was Sandro kidnapped? If he was, who could he talk to in the PNP? Or would it be better to talk to the army about this? Where would he be taken? Down south or up north? Maybe he got hurt somewhere and couldn't phone home? If he was, who should he contact?

"Where was he last seen Tita?" Baste asked, trying to sound calm as those different scenarios played in his head.

"That's why I'm calling you." Liza said as she took a deep breath. "The last time I saw him, he was distressed and wouldn't talk to me. But he contacted Paolo so Paolo picked him up from our house. I need to say this off the record, but I don't think too well of Paulo. I think he's a bad influence on my son."

Paolo? The Roxas boy? Baste felt his other hand clench into a hard fist. He knew that boy was bad news the moment he laid eyes on him at his dad's inauguration.

"Do you have any idea where they went?"

"We know where they are," Liza said with a sigh. "His brothers have tried to coax him home, but he's too wasted to listen. I don't want his father to know either because Bong.... my husband hates it when Sandro drinks. It has been a long time since he stopped this behavior. He got so much much better the less time he spent in Manila, but now he's going back to this...I don't know what to do. I want my son back."

"Send me the location tita. I'll go get your son for you," Baste said as he grabbed his backpack and hurriedly hailed a cab. He normally preferred the bus or jeep, but he was in a hurry.

He had to get to Sandro.

 

*

 

Tonight was the third straight night Sandro had gone out drinking with Paolo. Tonight they went to Valkyrie as it was Paolo's favorite hang out spot.

"Cous, just don't break their glasses tonight ok? I can't risk getting thrown out. This is my favorite club so I can't be banned from here because of your behavior."

Sandro shrugged and waved Paolo away. "We can pay for the broken glass. As long as there's money, they shouldn't care."

"They would if it scares away other customers," Paolo said as he uncorked a new bottle of whiskey and placed it on the table.

"Bah! Can pay them off," Sandro muttered drunkely as he poured himself another glass and downed it all in one go.

Paolo sighed and grabbed Sandro's empty glass away. "Why don't you have a go on the dance floor? "

Sandro growled and tried to grab his glass back. "Give it back." But he was so drunk that his hand and eye coordination were nonexistent so there was no way he could grab that glass back.

"No, go dance. Mingle Mr Marcos."

"I am not dancing alone!"

Paulo sighed and slung his arm over Sandro. Then he pointed to the dance floor. "You won't be alone, see that mass of people on the dance floor? They're all dancing to the beat of the music. You won't be alone out there."

Sandro glared at his cousin. "If I dance for a little bit will you let me have my alcohol again?"

"Yes, even though you're drunk already.

"I'm not drunk!" Sandro insisted as he shrugged off Paolo's arm and he walked on wobbly legs to the dance floor. He knew he was drunk but not drunk enough because it was not enough to forget that handsome face in his mind that keeps smiling and reminding him how stupid he was to let his heart hope.

"Keep telling yourself that!" Paolo yelled after him as Sandro moved into the crowd. Sandro barely heard him.

His body automatically swayed to the music without even trying or thinking. The alcohol made it easier. Dancing wasn't something he liked doing but that didn't mean he was bad at it.

His body swayed to the music like it was part of him. His eyes were closed and he just moved, letting the music take control.He didn't see the people around him, and he didn't care who they were or what they thought. Right now, it was just him and the music.

He could feel the bodies around him, a warm mass of moving bodies. He didn't care who it was he was grinding his body with as long as it felt good. It helped drown out his sadness, it helped shut out his thoughts on Baste Duterte.

So maybe Paolo's idea was a good one. This was helping.

That was until one particular person, probably a man based on his body type, started grinding against him and he let out a low purr. "Thought I was dancing alone," he purred as he slung his arms over the stranger's shoulders, too drunk to even care who it was he was dancing with, or what this would do to his reputation. He kept his eyes closed as they swayed to the music.

He felt hands resting on his and he giggled as the stranger upped their dancing tempo. "Not too fast!" he said in drunken stupor as he tumbled over his own two feet. The stranger's hands on his hips helped keep him upright so he didn't fall down on the floor.

"You dance well," the stranger whispered and Sandro giggled again.

"Not as good as you!"he said over the loud music.

The stranger laughed at that comment and continued to dance with him. If Sandro was sober he would realize that the man was getting closer than what was considered normal even on a dance floor. He would also be able to notice that the man's hands were moving up and down his back, moving lower with each swipe until they settled on his butt.

Instead of getting mad or punching the man on the face, as he would do if he was sober, the drunk Marcos scion just giggled and continued swaying to the music. "Tickles..." he giggled but didn't move away.

He would have danced forever like this, oblivious to this stranger's advances and just getting lost in the music.

He would have, if only Baste's growl didn't pierce through the loud music and a second later the warm body he was dancing with was pulled away from him.

"What the fuck are your doing Sandro?!" he heard the growl aimed at him this time.

Sandro's eyes snapped open and he looked around in panic. He was still drunk, but he knew Baste's voice when he heard it. Sure enough, there was Baste, standing in front of him. The crowd was still dancing, oblivious to what was happening on the dance floor. Things like this seemed to happen often that no one really cared to stop having fun in favor of caring anymore.

"Ba...Baste?"

"Who else were you expecting?!" Baste growled and reached out to grab Sandro's hand. It hurt, and for the first time in a long time Sandro felt genuinely scared. Baste was a large man, and yet Sandro had always felt safe with him. But now Baste looked angry, and it scared Sandro. He was drunk but Baste being there sort of snapped him out of his drunken stupor.

Baste's expression softened slightly when he heard Sandro wince. Sandro felt his hold loosen a little bit but he hadn't let his hand go.

"What are you doing here Sandro?" Baste asked, his voice was quivering, and Sandro could tell he was trying to hold in his anger.

But Sandro didn't care. Baste had hurt him, Baste left him and went back to his live in partner and his kids! He had chosen them! So what the hell was he doing here?! He grit his teeth and forced the words out of his lips.He was hurting and this man had the gall to throw that question to him?! "No, what are _you_  doing here?" he asked instead.

"I came here to get you. Your mom is worried for you."

"I don't care!" Sandro growled. "I came here to forget you! So don't you fucking dare show up here!"

A look of confusion passed through Baste's face for a moment before he regained composure. "What... why? What did I do?"

Sandro glared at Baste and used his free hand to point at his face. "You went home to Davao, you went back to your family! I guess you were tired of playing with your toy in Manila huh?! Well I'm done playing with you too!"

"What are you talking about?" Baste asked as he tightened his grip on Sandro's hand again and tried to pull him close. But a new song had started to play and the dancing was picking up speed again. "Let's get out of here," Baste grumbled as he pulled Sandro along and away from the dance floor.

But Sandro was stubborn this time. He stood his ground and tugged his hand away from Baste. "Let me go!"

"No," Baste grumbled lowly. He kept his hold on Sandro's wrist and pulled him away from the dance floor, away from the noisy crowd. Despite Sandro whining and tugging, Baste didn't let his hand go and continued to drag him along to one corner of the club where the patrons had abandoned their seats in favor of the dance floor. Here, it was strangely quiet, not as quiet as outside the club, but quiet enough to talk without shouting at each other.

 

"Let me go!" Sandro whined as he tugged on his arm again, glaring at Baste.

"Not until you explain why you're so angry." Baste said firmly as he finally let go of Sandro's wrist.

Sandro glared at him and nursed his hurting wrist. "You know what you did," he mumbled, his lips forming an angry pout.

Baste narrowed his eyes. "You said I left you for my family, what did you mean by that?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, do I need to spell it out for you Sebastian Duterte?" Sandro growled as he crossed his arms like an angry child. He had not used Baste's whole name in a long time, not since they met. But he was so angry right now he was not going to use his nickname. "I know what you did! You thought you could hide it? I saw your ticket, and I know you went back to Davao to your family!"

Baste looked at him for a while, silent. The longer Baste kept his silence, the more Sandro realized the weight of his words. What if Baste nodded? What if Baste acknowledged it... what if... what if he would really leave him? He didn't know what was more painful, that Baste had kept him in the dark about going home to his family or if he would acknowledge it and leave Sandro for good. The previous one seemed to be a better option, being kept in the dark but he would still see Baste every once in a while... Oh how far has he fallen to choose second place just to see this man again.But he would have preferred that. It hurt, it hurt so much to know that he wasn't first in Baste's heart, and to know that he had been lied to. But it was unimaginable for Sandro not to see the Duterte son anymore.

Sandro felt a sudden wetness to his cheeks, so he reached up and tried to wipe it off. What.... why... he was crying?

"I saw pictures... you looked so happy..." he cried out, his voice cracking as the jumble of emotions came crashing down. He used his hand to cover his face. He didn't want Baste to see him crying. He didn't want Baste to see him so weak. If Baste wanted to go home, he would let him go, but not like this. He didn't want his last memory to be him, drunk and crying in front of Baste.

He heard Baste sigh and suddenly he was enveloped in strong arms. He wanted to push him away. But his shoulders were heaving from all the crying, and Baste's arms around him held him tight. He couldn't move or push him away even if he wanted to.

"You weren't supposed to know" he heard Baste mutter into his ear.

"Fuck you... playing with my heart like that...."

"Shut up and let me talk ok?" Baste interrupted him as those strong arms tightened around him.

For a while there was no sound between them but the sniffling sound of Sandro trying to hold back his tears.

He heard Baste take a deep breath and he began. "I went to Davao to see my kids and to talk to my son's mother. I told her about you...."

Sandro froze. He told her... his son's mother... He sniffled and tried to sound tough, but his voice still cracked no matter how much he tried. "Of course you'll stay with the mother of your child, I'm just your...."

"She gave me her blessing."

".... plaything and I'm a man I know I can't give you children. I bet she's a beautiful woman with boobs, you look like a boob person. I can never have boobs, I'm a man. So it'S only logical that you choose her. I also have no idea on child rearing, so your kids are better off with her and...."

Baste sighed and cut off Sandro's monologue by shaking his shoulders. "Did you not hear what I said?"

Sandro blinked away his tears in confusion. "What?"

"I said... she gave me her blessing."

Now it was Sandro's turn to be quiet, and he stared at Baste like he had grown another head. Gave him her blessing... what did that mean?! Was he still drunk? Or did one of those drinks had a hallucinogen in them? Because he felt like he was hearing thngs. "What... what are you talking about?"

Baste sighed and his expression softened considerably. He still held on tight to Sandro though, not letting up even a bit. "It was supposed to be a surprise. I went home to tell her about you. That's why it took me three days, we had to look for a nanny for the kids to help her out. She's agreed to look after the kids in my stead while I'm still here in Manila."

"I don't understand..." Really, Sandro felt so confused right now.

Baste sighed again and leaned down to press his forehead on to Sandro'S own. "She let me go Sandro. I have two kids but I'm finally a single man who can pursue this handsome temperemental spoiled rich kid in my arms - you, the person who has stolen my heart."

Sandro blinked again and again and again. He didn't understand what he was hearing. Of course he did, but he was just stuck in a place of denial. So he just continued staring at Baste without utterning a word, his braing trying to catch up with all this new information.

"Hello? earth to Alexander Marcos?"

"But but you were hugging her ... at the airport...you looked so happy..."

Baste sighed. "You silly boy. I hug everyone I see back home you idiot. I'd hug your dad if I knew him long enough, that doesn't mean I like him the same way I like you."

Now... Sandro felt silly. He had been misled? And what had he done about it? He could have asked Baste about it but noooo he didn't even try that. He had just gone out of his way to make himself look like a stupid idiot.

Baste leaned in to bump their foreheads together. "Ano, peace na tayo?" (So now, are we good again?)

Sandro sniffled and looked up, feeling his heart thump as he saw that familiar smile on Baste's lips. He nodded slowly, still sniffling. As he did, he saw Baste's smile widen and his hug tighten even more.

"God I've missed you Sandro," Baste murmured in his ear and Sandro couldn't help but shiver at the possessiveness fo his voice and the way his arms held him tight. This man really wanted him. He was so foolish to doubt that. He could feel it, in the way Baste held him, smiled at him, talked to him. Baste had gone and done the right thing, had rearranged his life somewhat to make room for Sandro. And what had Sandro done? Doubt him. It made him feel so tiny against the man that was Baste Duterte.

"I missed you too.... thinking I would not see you again... sorry for doubting you," Sandro murmured back and Baste responded by kissing his tear streaked cheeks.

"Foolish foolish boy," Baste murmured as he continued to kiss his cheeks. "Wag ka sa akin mag sorry. (Don't apologize to me.) Si Mommy mo ung alalang alala para sa yo. (Your mom was really worried about you). "

Sandro sniffled again. "Mom? You got in touch with mom?"

"That's how I knew where you were," Baste said as he finally loosened his hold around Sandro's waist. "You better apologize to her, she was really panicking because you haven't been home in three days."

"I know..." Sandro murmured, feeling ashamed for making his mom worried like that.

"Ok, now that that's cleared up, are we talking about that very sensual dance you were having with that man on the dance floor?"

Sandro blushed darkly and tried to scramble out of Baste's arms. "That wasn't what you thought it was!"

Baste grinned and kept his arms around Sandro even though it wasn't as tight as it was before already. "What was that then? Care to explain? I'll have you know I get very very jealous."

  
Sandro blushed darker and tried to squirm out of Baste's arms again. "I told you, there was nothing happening!!!"

"Really? Because I .... "

  
Baste trailed off and Sandro didn't have to wonder why he stopped speaking.

"Are you done harrassing my cousin yet Duterte?"

Sandro paused. Paolo. Of course, he came here with Paolo, and when he did come back from the dance floor, Paolo would look for him. "Cous he's not..."

Baste quickly pulled his hands back from Sandro, but he took his wrist instead. His hold was way gentler this time, yet still firm. "I'm taking him back to his mother Roxas."

"Since when did you become his guardian? and since when did you become a Marcos lapdog that Tita Liza could order around?"

"That doesn't concern you." Baste tugged a confused Sandro along and walked past Paolo.

 

"just know Duterte. That if you hurt my cousin, it's not just the Marcos clan you'll have to watch out for." 

 

Baste  ignored him and kept walking, Sandro in tow.

"Sorry cous, call you later," Sandro said quickly to Paolo as he was pulled along by Baste past Paolo, and straight out of the club into a parked car that was sent there by Liza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n end : sadly no cat fight as some people were anticipating. I wanted to resolve this as peacefully as i could because Baste deserves it. If this became a cat fight, Baste would have to choose, and I don't want that for him. He loves his kids and he isn't a selfish man, if his partner and Sandro fought over him, it would weigh heavily for Baste and he would choose to do the right thing, which is not necessarily what he wants. So no cat fight. 
> 
> This also explains why Baste never really courted Sandro for real. The harana was to let him know what he felt, and the lunch date was a date for Sandro and a hangout for Baste. Because for Baste he was still tied up somewhere and he didn't want to become a two timer. Now that he has cleanly separated from his partner, he can pursue Sandro without any guilt.


	11. Visit 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandro wakes up with a hangover, guess who comes over for a visit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys! Work has gotten really hectic recently and I'm rearranging things in my life (new job search, new house search etc) so there may be days where i won't be able to write at all. I hope you can bear with me. 
> 
> Also, I need to take a break from the angst. Writing the last chapter made me sad the entire weekend ^^; my fics affect me much more than i should let them ^^ So this chapter will be a bit more fluffy, and we get to see a more playful and flirty side to them :3
> 
> Also, as Baste is a very secretive man, I have no idea what his partner, or his children's names are. I will make up names for them until more information comes up for public use.
> 
> * Correction!!!!! I mentioned in previous chapters that his current partner is the mother of his daughter, she's the mother of his son. So I'm correcting that in previous chapters. Sorry for that mistake.
> 
>  
> 
> POVS: Starts with Sandro and then moves on to Baste POV for the second half

 

Chapter 11

Visit 1

 

Sandro opened his eyes and stared up at his ceiling. He didn't want to get up because he felt like he was still dreaming. He rolled around in his bed, and grabbed his phone from the bedside table. There was a text.

 

 _"Good morning. Bangon na antukin. Kiss ko nalang hangover mo para mawala_." (Good morning get up sleepyhead. I'll kiss your hangover away for you.)

 

Sandro blushed brightly and wiggled back under his blankets.

 

He didn't know how to handle this Baste, who was aggressively pining after him and openly flirting using texts and teasing words. His texts used to be so nice and polite and charming and now... well they were still charming, very charming actually, but also very teasing and flirty and it made Sandro blush so easily.

 

"I don't have a hangover," he typed quickly and sent it to Baste.

 

Before he could even put the phone down, it vibrated again, alerting him that Baste had responded.

 

 _"Kiss parin kita_." (I'll still kiss you.)

 

"Ahhhhhh!" Sandro whined and threw the phone under his pillow. He didn't have to look into a mirror to know that he was blushing again.

 

This all started last night. As soon as they had gotten into the car, Baste had told him that he wouldn't pull back the punches anymore. He would be courting (more like flirting in Sandro's opinion) Sandro now that he was a single man.

 

Sandro grabbed his pillow and put it over his head. He still couldn't believe that Baste had done what he did. He had been ecstatic last night, but now that he was sober and could think better, he was wondering why Baste's partner had let him go so easily. Maybe he could ask him the next time they saw each other.

 

They barely talked in the car last night and even though Sandro was barely responsive, he vaguely remembered Baste not touching him at all.  Knowing Baste, he wouldn't take advantage of a man's weakness like that. The thought alone made Sandro blush. He had been drunkenly dancing with a stranger, who was touching him in not so innocent ways, and he had let him. While the man he wanted was holding back out of respect.... Sandro grabbed his pillow and screamed into it. He was so embarrassed.

 

He was stupid when he was drunk. Well... he was stupid and rash most of the time, but even more so when drunk. He had to apologize to his mom properly, and he had to apologize to Baste properly too. He did both of them wrong. He made his mom worry and he had second guessed Baste, and showed him such a pathetic side to himself. He was surprised Baste didn't leave him after seeing him like that. Any other person would have.

 

His phone vibrated again and Sandro reached out to take it. He didn't have to check to know that the text was, again, from Baste.

 

"If you don't wake up now, I'm going up there to get you."

 

What...What?!

 

Going up?! Was Baste in his house right now?!

 

Sandro quickly sat up. Bad idea, as another wave of dizziness made him lie back down. Damn his hangover! It was so hard to move around. 

 

"What are you talking about?" he texted Baste back as soon as his headache subsided enough for him to type on his cellphone.

 

"Heh, get your bubble butt off your bed and peek out your door," came the quick reply.

 

Sandro's eyes widened and he scrambled off the bed, landing in a loud thud. His head still hurt and  now his butt hurt from landing flat on the floor. 

 

" _Ingat lang, wag ka madapa =),_ " (Be careful, don't trip) came Baste's quick text, complete with that teasing smiley face.

 

Sandro blushed even redder after reading that text. Baste heard that... so was he really in the house?

 

He dragged his ass off the  floor and across the bedroom. What was supposed to be a menial task transformed into a gargantuan one as his head throbbed in pain. But in the end, after what felt like forever, he was finally able to drag himself across the room and to the door.

 

He opened it slightly and just in time to hear a loud hearty laugh from the living room. That laugh was unmistakeable. He knew that voice anywhere.

 

What the hell was Baste doing at his house this early in the morning?!

 

"Ah, tita, do you think he's awake?" Sandro heard Baste ask.

 

Tita? Was Baste talking to his mother?

 

"Maybe. I can bring you to his room, and you can check for yourself? My son isn't in the best of moods when he's having a hangover."

 

Sandro groaned and buried his face in his hands as Baste laughed at that comment. His own mother had said that. He was sure that Baste would tease him about it later on. 

 

But he didn't have time to wallow in his own self pity as he heard the unmistakeable footsteps come up the stairs. So he scrambled to his feet and tried to get back into his room as quickly as his hangover dulled body could get him.

 

It took a while for him to make the way back to the bed, and it was only a miracle that he had managed to get on his bed and under the sheets  just as the door opened.

 

"Will you really be fine on your own?"

 

Even though Sandro was hidden under his sheets. He knew, he could tell that Baste was smirking at this. "Of course Tita, _ako na bahala._ " (Leave it to me).

 

Sandro felt a shudder run down his back. It wasn't even in the way Baste said it, just that... he didn't know. He was a combination of nervous and excited, he didn't know what to anticipate from this Baste who was less held back than the Baste he had been seeing for the past few weeks.

 

He heard the door creak and then click shut. Then he heard the surprisingly light footsteps come closer to his bed. Then he heard them stop, and then without warning he felt his bed shift as Baste basically laid down on TOP of his legs.

 

"Baste!" Sandro cried out in surprise and indignation. Baste was heavy for crying out loud.

 

Baste laughed and pulled the blanket off of Sandro's torso, revealing the ruffled and obviously pissed Marcos heir.

 

"Stop pretending to be asleep. I heard you fall off your bed."

 

"I didn't fall!" Sandro cried out, face turning bright red. "I...I may have stubbed my toe," he muttered. 

 

Baste stared at him and then laughed even louder. "That loud? You should have a broken foot by now!"

 

Sandro could feel his face heat up even more as Baste continued to laugh. His lips formed a pout and he crossed his arms in a cross manner. He didn't look cross though, he looked more like a kicked kitten pouting like this. "Did you come over just to laugh at me? If yes, then please leave, because my head hurts," he muttered.

 

"B _ilis naman nito mapikon_ ," (You're so easy to piss off ) Baste said, still chuckling. He sat there for a while, as if debating what he should do and then sighed, relenting with his teasing. He scooted closer to Sandro and bumped their shoulders together. "I was worried that's why I came over."

 

"Worried for what? You already brought me home last night, you knew I was safe." Sandro still had a pout on his lips, but his words were softer. Baste being so close calmed him down. it was just how he reacted to the other man's presence.

 

"You were so wasted last night, that you were basically unresponsive as soon as I brought you to the car.  I won't be surprised if you don't remember anything that I said."

 

Sandro blushed some more, not out of embarrassment this time. He remembered it all too clearly. He remembered his embarrassing display on the dance floor, he remembered Baste being angry and pulling him away, he remembered what Baste said, he remembered how those strong arms felt around him and the words he said. 

 

"I remember everything," Sandro said softly, his pout disappearing as Baste's arm reached out and wrapped around his shoulder and he automatically leaned his head on to Baste's shoulder."I'm surprised you still want me after seeing that side of me last night."

 

"Shhh," Baste soothed as he squeezed Sandro's shoulder."You were hurt, and it was my fault for hiding it from you too. Should have just told you and avoided this whole mess."

 

Sandro took a deep breath and inhaled Baste's scent. He had the trace hints of cologne, intertwined with a scent that was so uniquely Baste. He liked this smell, he realized and he nuzzled his face closer to Baste's shoulder. "You did so much for me...But you have kids, so I thought you were straight and that I was just a play..."

 

"You were never a plaything," Baste interrupted him, voice firm. "I wish you would stop thinking and saying that."

 

"I know," Sandro murmured. "But you have a family, you were happy... You can't fault me for thinking that way. Besides, we're both guys.... if we were in England I wouldn't doubt it as much, but here in Manila, you know how close minded people are here. And you're the son of the president for crying out loud.You could have any woman you want."

 

"And yet I want you," Baste stated easily, quickly, like it was plain as day. It only made Sandro want to hide his embarrassed face more. How could Baste say these things so easily?

 

"You said that last night too."

 

"I know I did."

 

"Baste?"

 

"Hm?" Baste's hand gently moved up and down Sandro's shoulder and upper arm, gently encouraging him to speak up.

 

Sandro took a deep breath. It was now or never. If he didn't ask, he would never know. "Why did you let go of what you had for me? You were happy... and this road, well you're not even sure if we can be anything."

 

It was something he didn't really want to think about. But it had to be brought up. The past few weeks of this tug of war of emotions, the flirty teasing, the hugs and the kisses, and now Baste had officially cut down his ties to pursue Sandro. It wasn't just silent attractions and assumptions anymore.

 

In Sandro's case, it was obvious from day 1 that he couldn't get Baste off his mind. From the day he met him at the airport he constantly had Baste on his mind. It wasn't a romantic attraction at first. He was drawn to the mystery, to the enigma that was Rody Duterte's youngest son. No one knew anything about Baste, and even the media couldn't get him to talk despite the multiple interviews.

 

He piqued Sandro's interest. But his interest and respect for the man grew and grew, until... he couldn't take his eyes off of him anymore. Sandro has never fallen in love before, and he had never had a crush for as long as he could remember, so he really didn't know how it would feel.

 

He basically had no time in the past. He had a rough childhood, being in the shadow of his grandfather. He went to England and was too busy either drinking or studying and trying to be better. With his friends and cousins back home in Manila, he drank less and less in England. But he still partied to drown his worries. Between studying and partying, there was no time to find a romantic partner.

 

He's had girls confess to him before, but not one of them ever got his interest the same way that Baste has.

 

Being single since he was born, Sandro had no idea what his preference was. But he couldn't deny the way Baste took his attention, took his breath away, calmed him and excited him all at the same time. If this wasn't attraction, he didn't know what was. 

 

But whether or not Sandro and Baste were attracted to each other was not really the issue here. They lived in the Philippines, one of the few countries in the world where the church had a say in literally EVERYTHING the government does. Plus, they were children of top politicians, his father a senator and Baste's the president of the Republic. It wouldn't be accepted, ever. The media and the tabloids will have the best time of their lives if word got out.

 

Why would Baste give up his happiness for a relationship that can only happen in the shadows?

 

Baste sighed and Sandro quickly thought that maybe it wasn't the right time or the right question.

 

"Sorry, forget I asked...."

 

"Will you let me at least start?" Baste sighed. "You sometimes talk too much," he said, without teasing and without any malice.

 

Baste took a deep breath and began again,  "There's a reason Kate and I never got married. We were partners, and we have a child together. But we knew for a while that we weren't compatible at all. We were ok as friends, we tried it out to see if it would work out, it never did. She's still my best surfing buddy and the mother of my son, but that's all she is to me."

 

"Baste..."

 

Baste's hold on Sandro's shoulder tightened and Sandro felt a gentle kiss on top of his head. "I've never felt for anyone the same way I do for you Sandro."

 

Sandro blushed for the nth time that day and he couldn't help but tilt his head up to look at Baste. When he did, and he saw Baste's intense gaze on him, he could feel his heart beat instantly quicken, thudding hard against his chest. Sandro was at a loss for words. Actually he had a lot to say, but his mouth just wouldn't work when Baste looked at him like this.

 

"I... I don't know what to say," Sandro murmured softly as soon as his felt like his lips would work again.

 

Baste smiled and shook his head. Despite the intensity of his eyes, his lips curled into a kind and gentle smile. "You don't need to say anything. Not yet at least anyway. I don't want to rush you. I'm just glad I even have this chance with you."

 

With all this talk, Sandro swore he was going to be in a perpetual state of blush. "I really don't know what you see in me," he muttered softly.

 

"Are you kidding me?"Baste asked as his lips curled up into a bigger grin. He still had his arm around Sandro's shoulder so it was easy to reach his face. He caressed his cheek and Sandro unconsciously leaned into the touch. His fingers and his palm were both so rough, calloused from manual work at his recycling shop business and surfing probably. But Sandro liked it. It was a stark contrast to his own, too smooth hands.

 

Baste seemed to appreciate the response as he let out a soft hum. "Alexander Marcos,  what is there about you that i cannot love? You're smart, you're handsome to a point that you're beautiful.... have you even looked at the mirror lately?" Then Sandro felt Baste's thumb caress down his cheek. "You have the most beautiful eyes and I can stay lost in them forever. "

 

If Sandro thought he was blushing earlier? Boy was he mistaken because Baste obviously had a penchant for  making him discover how many shades of red his face could go.

 

"Ba...Baste...that's embarrassing...."

 

"Nothing embarrassing about saying the truth," Baste murmured as he leaned in to press his lips on Sandro's cheek.

 

Sandro felt his breath catch in his throat. He missed those lips. He missed feeling it on his own, and he could feel his heart beating louder in anticipation of what was to come. 

 

But it didn't.

 

Because at the moment Baste's lips got close enough to touch his own, there was a knock on the door and on instinct both men jumped away from each other. Sandro quickly slipped under his blanket and Baste had scrambled to his feet.

 

A muffled, " _Kuya_ , can I come in?" (Brother, can I come in?) could be heard from outside the door.

 

Sandro had to take a series of deep breaths to calm his heart and the new headache attempting to take over his head.  He could see Baste taking deep breaths out of of the corner of his eye too. Good, so he wasn't the only one who got the scare of his life. "Yeah, come in William," he said, hoping against hope his younger brother would not realize that his voice was still shaky.

 

The door creaked open and in peaked William, Sandro's younger brother. "Mom sent some headache medicine, told me to bring it up before you killed our guest."

 

Sandro rolled his eyes. "Mom has very unfounded fears."

 

"Not unfounded," his brother responded as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. " _Kuya_ Baste, mom was worried _kung nagwala na daw si kuya_." (Mom was worried if big brother already went on a rampage.)

  


"Will..."

 

Baste laughed and patted William's shoulder. "He hasn't yet. _Malapit na_." (Almost.)

 

"Baste!" Sandro quickly grabbed his blanket and pulled it up over his head, embarrassed and knowing that he wouldn't win if it was two against one.

 

**

 

Sandro had been a good boy and had taken his medicine, and the said boy with the hangover was sleeping soundly in his bed while Baste looked over the envelope in his hands.

Sandro didn't tell him about it, but William had. He said that his brother had received the envelope via mail, and suddenly after that, his brother just upped and left with Paolo to go on his three day drinking binge. They didn't know what was in the envelope, just that it made his brother really depressed and angry.

 

Baste had opened the envelope minutes earlier. He had seen the photo and he had seen the scribbled note on the piece of paper.

 

It made his blood boil. Whoever it was who did this knew that he had a flight out of Manila and knew that he was going back to Davao. But what worried him more is that this person knew what he and Sandro had between them. It could be someone he knew. But not a lot of people knew he was leaving for Davao, not even his father knew. So it could also be someone tailing his every move. He had to be more careful. If someone knew, it wouldn't take long until the media would get wind of it. If that happened, not only would it be terrible for both him and Sandro, it would do worse damage for their fathers.

 

But he had already decided he would pursue this. His father didn't raise a coward, and he would never go back on his word. Whether Sandro would do the same or not in his control. But Baste knew what he wanted. So whether or not someone was out there to destroy them, he wouldn't let it happen so easily. He would fight for this.

 

With a low growl, Baste grabbed his phone and dialed a number he knew too well. As usual, it only took two rings and his call was answered immediately.

 

"Baste, _napatawag ka?_ " (Baste you called?) asked the voice on the other end of the line.

 

"Ronald," he said. "Are you still in Davao? I heard dad offered you the PNP (Philippine National Police) position." Ronald Dela Rosa was their family's long time friend, and one of the few he and his father trusted completely with regards to their safety.

 

"Yeah I'm still in Davao. Your father hasn't made the appointment official. So until then, I'm staying here to make sure all the work is done before I move to Manila. Why did you call though? You don't usually call me at this hour. Is everything alright there in Manila?"

 

Baste sighed as he steeled himself. "Actually no, there's something I want you to look into."

 

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment and then, "What is it about?" Dela Rosa's voice changed slightly, taking on a more serious tone.

 

"I think someone was tailing me when I went to Davao three days ago," Baste said. "There's more to this, but I can't explain it now, I'll explain it in detail when you come to Manila."

 

"That sounds serious. Do you want me to send someone to Manila for you?"

 

Baste shook his head. "It's not me I'm worried about."

 

"Baste, if someone is tailing you, that's cause for concern."

 

"I told you I'll be fine. It's Marcos I'm more worried for."

 

Again another pause on the other end of the line. "Marcos?" Dela Rosa asked, voice unsure.

 

"His eldest, Alexander." Baste's eyes moved towards the sleeping form of Sandro on the bed and he felt his heart ache at the pain that mysterious sender had brought to him. "I told you I'll explain in detail when you get to Manila. But I would appreciate it if you can get someone to make sure he's safe. I know his father already has bodyguards for him, but I don't trust them at allall. I trust you and your men."

  


"Consider it done. I'm sending the same security detail for you..."

 

"I already told you that I don't need it."

 

"I'm sure that's what Mr Marcos would say too but that won't stop you would it?"

 

He got him there. Baste grumbled something under his breath and then conceded with a muttered, "Fine."

 

He heard a chuckle from the other end of the line.

 

"Send them my way and I'll give them a briefing. You sure they're men I can trust?"

 

"With my life," came the immediate answer. "I'll send them your way as soon as possible."

 

"Good." Baste heard a soft ruffling of sheets and decided to go back to his charge. "I'll see them in Malacanang this weekend if that can be arranged."

 

"Consider it done."

 

"Thank you," he said and hung up. He pocketed his phone and stood up. He had turned off the lights after Sandro took his medicine and went back to sleep. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the space beside Sandro. He was careful not to rouse the sleeping heir, but when he looked down he saw Sandro blinking his eyes sleepily. Too late, he was already awake. 

 

He was really handsome, beautiful really. But beneath that exterior was a man with a great mind and a simple heart who cared for others. The reputation of the Marcoses and the real Sandro Marcos was so different that Baste could hardly believe how much everyone else was missing by seeing Sandro through tinted glasses. As for him, he still often wondered how lucky he was and  how he could be blessed to have such a beautiful man with a brilliant mind so close and so within reach.

 

He reached down and caressed that smooth cheek, and was instantly rewarded by those beautiful eyes fluttering open. Those eyes were deep pools that he could get lost in forever, and don't even get him started on those eyelashes.

 

"Mmm... Baste? You're still here?" the sleepy Sandro murmured softly, groggy eyes trying to focus on Baste.

 

"Yeap still here," Baste murmured back as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to Sandro's forehead. " _Musta na pakiramdam mo?_ " (How are you feeling?)

 

Sandro made a cute noise at the back of his throat and leaned in closer to Baste's hand on his cheek. "Better, but I still want to sleep."  


"Alright, go back to sleep. I'll go tell your mom that you'll eat your dinner up... here. Sandro?" Baste had made a move to stand, but he felt Sandro's hand on his shirt, keeping him where he was. He looked down and almost had a heart attack when he saw the expression on Sandro's face. His cheeks were dusted a light pink, those half lidded drowsy eyes he was trying to keep open, and his pink lips, forming a cute pout. A blushing Sandro was adorable, a half asleep pouting and blushing Sandro with bed hair was a sight beyond words.

 

"Don't go."

 

it was a plea, a rather childlike plea, and Baste kind of liked it, somehow. "Silly boy," he chuckled as he leaned down to press a kiss on Sandro's lips. "I'll just tell your mom to... wait....Sandro?!" Baste gasped as arms wrapped around his shoulders and he was tugged down on to the bed instead.

 

He managed to stretch one arm out to cushion his fall and not crush Sandro completely. He was a much larger man than Sandro was after all. But he was so close to him, so close he could count the freckles on his cheeks, so close that he could smell the lingering scent of alcohol and perfume, so close that well, he could feel Sandro's breath on his lips, and his heat through each point that their bodies touched, despite having all of their clothes on. It was doing really bad things to his mind, and even worse things to the lower half of his body.

 

"Sandro," he murmured, trying to keep his wits about as this half asleep man kept him held down on the bed. "You have to let me go so I can have dinner sent up to your room."

 

Again that pout resurfaced on those perfectly shaped lips. "You sure? You're not going to go anywhere and not tell me?" His eyes were closed and his speech slurred slightly. He was probably drifting off to sleep again.

 

"I promise _Alexander_ ," Baste whispered and pressed a soft kiss on to Sandro's lips. "I won't go anywhere."

 

"Good," half asleep Sandro said with a smile and just like that his hold on Baste relaxed and Baste knew he had fallen back to sleep.

 

Baste took a deep breath and untangled himself from Sandro's arms slowly so as not to wake him up again. Now that one problem was taken cared of, that being Sandro was back asleep. He had a second problem he had to take care of, the one between his legs.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this chapter! :3 comments are always loved and appreciated <3


	12. Visit 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time Sandro goes to visit Baste. What will happen? Will the PSG even let him into the Palace?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments!  
> For this chapter, we will see a reverse of the visit, with Sandro going to visit Baste instead.  
> Also, this chapter is still fluffy but it is also the start of a new plot point. 
> 
> Ah and I think I need to clarify that this is a slow working fic, so the really physical things won't happen until later chapters. They're both still exploring at this point, and so many things stand in their way. 
> 
> Anyways I hope you will enjoy this chapter !!

Chapter 12

 

Visit 2

 

Ever since his trip to Davao, Baste had been visiting Sandro every day. Sometimes he had food to bring, sometimes he had documents his father needed to be passed for Bong Bong, and sometimes he would just come over to spend time with Sandro. It was nice, and Sandro really appreciated it. But sometimes, it felt like he was the girl all the time? He obviously loved the attention Baste showered on him. But at the same time, he also wanted to do something for Baste too.

So today, he told Baste he had somewhere he had to be with his family so Baste wouldn't come over. All this so Sandro could go to Malacanang instead and be the one to visit him this time.

Sandro was nervous! He didn't know what to do or what to wear. He didn't know what to bring. He didn't know anything! His parents still had no idea about this thing between him and Baste, so he couldn't really ask them or his brothers for help. They just thought they were friends, and Sandro wanted to keep it that way for now.

But for someone who had never ever courted anyone, he had really no idea! He had ideas of course, but they were all for women, or things he liked to receive. Obviously,he was sure Baste would never like any of those things.

He loved polo shirts, Baste obviously wasn't fond of them.

Baste obviously loved surfing, Sandro had no idea about surfing.

Sandro had no idea about rock music and Baste was obviously not interested in EDM.

If one looked at them, they obviously had very different tastes in everything. Their lifestyles were also very different, as well as their personalities. Perhaps the only thing they had in common was their love for food and dislike of the media spotlight.

So Sandro had done the only thing he could think of (which was probably the worst idea ever in Sandro's case) - cook. He never touched the kitchen here in Manila, and even when he was in England, he never tried to cook for himself because he didn't know what to do.

Now he wanted to bake some cookies for Baste, but he had never touched an oven before. He had no idea how to operate it actually.... but because he had his pride, he didn't want to ask for help either. He waited for his parents to leave the house and bribed his brothers to go out to see their friends so he would be alone and no one would witness his shame. And shame indeed. He not only burned down a batch, he burned three batches. It was a miracle the oven didn't explode, since he basically just pressed buttons he didn't understand. It was an even bigger miracle that his house didn't burn down.

But he didn't want to give Baste burnt cookies, so he eventually gave up and just went to a nearby wine store to buy champagne. He still brought a few cookies with him, because it was so wasteful to just throw everything away. He could eat it in the car and just bear with the taste of burnt butter, chocolate and flour.

With the bag of burnt cookies clumsily stuffed in his bag and a packaged bottle of champagne in his arms, Sandro was dropped off at the entrance of the Malacanang Palace.

"Sir, will you be ok?" his chauffeur asked as Sandro closed the door of the car.

Sandro nodded. "Do I look like I won't be?"

The older fellow chuckled and shook his head. "You've just been really quiet in the car. You're only really quiet when you have a lot of things on your mind."

Sandro smiled and shook his head. "You know me way too well. But I'll be fine. Promise. I'll give you a call when it's time to pick me up?"

His chauffeur nodded and drove off, leaving Sandro on the steps of the Malacanang Palace. As soon as his car had left though, Sandro realized that he had no idea what to do. He usually came to Malacanang only when there was an event. The last time he came here without an event was when Baste had called him over. He remembered there being a list of visitors when he when he entered, and he waited for Baste in the waiting room. But now, he was here unannounced and uninvited. Was he even allowed to enter the palace?

Suddenly his calm disappeared into a sort of quiet panic. He obviously hadn't thought this through. Would the presidential security even let him in?

"Stupid stupid," he muttered to himself but he mustered enough courage to walk up to the checkpoint anyway.

"Good morning sir, can you show us your id please?" asked the guard by the gate. He looked like a large man, almost as large as Baste. But this man scared Sandro because this man looked really strict and wouldn't seem to have second thoughts about throwing him out. 

"I only have my student Id, will that be enough?" Sandro asked as he took it out and showed it to the guard.

The guard took the id, gave it a once over and frowned. "Sorry Mr Marcos, we don't have you on the list of visitors today."

Sandro felt his heart sink. "But ... but I need to..."

"Sorry sir, we know who you are, but we just can't let you in," the guard said.

Well that plan had gone down the drain really quickly. Sandro took his id back and turned around to leave.

"Ah! Sandro, what are you doing out here _iho_?"

Sandro blinked and then looked up. She was an angel, Baste had said, and that was the image Sandro had in his head as he watched Leni Robredo walk towards the gate, her small purse in her hands, and a familiar looking man by her side.

"Tita Leni?" Sandro asked, barely believing his luck. What were the chances that she was also passing by the entrance to the Palace? Wait... why was she even walking? Shouldn't her car be all the way inside the Palace parking area? "Tita, where's your service?"

Leni shrugged. "I still take the bus," she responded easily. "I'm sure the bodyguards PSG have on me are around there somewhere," she said with a dismissing wave of her hand. "I just don't like them hanging around me."

Sandro smiled and nodded. "You still take the bus huh?" Then his eyes fell on her companion. "I don't think we've met," he said as he extended his hand.

"Not formally at least. Raffy Tima," the man introduced himself as he accepted Sandro's handshake. "News reporter from GMA 7. It's nice to meet you finally Mr Marcos."

"Please, just call me Sandro. Mr Marcos sounds like my dad," Sandro said as they shook hands.

"My wife covered your speech last time," he said with a smile. "She says she can still hear the screams of the girls when you passed by them and shook their hands."

Sandro chuckled shyly and scratched the back of his head. "Your wife? Ah, Ms Umali?"  He remembered her. She seemed like a good reporter and asked her questions politely. He always remembered polite reporters. 

Raffy laughed and nodded. "She will be super happy that you remember her name. She's a fan of yours I can tell," he said with a wink.

Sandro blushed and shook his head. "I remember good reporters," he said. "Are you here to interview Tita Leni?" he asked, because that was the only reason he could think of as to why Raffy Tima was here with the current vice president of the country.

"Yeah, he's with me today. Since I got sworn in, I've only done phone interviews. We thought it was about time I had a proper sit down interview" Leni answered. "By the way, what are you doing here Sandro? Why haven't they let you in yet? Better yet, why isn't Baste here to pick you up?"

Sandro hoped against hope that he wasn't blushing. Especially not when a reporter was here. Leni was being careful with her words, but Sandro couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"I was just supposed to drop this off," he said as calmly as he could. "It was sudden so I forgot to call him beforehand."

"Ah," Leni's lips curled up into a knowing smile. "I see. _Ako na bahala sayo_ ," (Leave it to me) She turned around and said to the guards. "Let him in, he's my guest," she said to them.

The guards looked at each other, hesitant.

"List him under my guests," she repeated. "If you've gone deaf then I'll have a chat with your boss."

The two guards scrambled to write down Sandro's name and apologized profusely to the vice president as they did so.

"You're visiting someone?" Raffy asked Sandro as Leni finished with the guards.

"Visiting Baste Duterte," Sandro responded since Leni had already mentioned the name earlier.

"You two good friends?"

"Is this becoming my interview Raffy?" Sandro chuckled, as good naturedly as he could, as they walked past the guards and past the gates. He didn't want to give this reporter any more information than what was necessary. "But yeah, well not super close. I could say close acquaintance?" he lied. "We've met a few times on the campaign trail."

"I see," Raffy said. He seemed like he wanted to ask more but was stopped when Leni patted his shoulder.

"Raffy, my office is this way," she said as she pointed to the direction opposite where Sandro was headed.

"Ah, sorry mam." Raffy turned to Sandro. "It was nice meeting you. I'll let my wife know that you remembered her."

"It was nice meeting you too. Extend my regards to Ms Umali."

Sandro took a deep breath as Raffy Tima followed Leni off to her office. Crisis averted. He had to thank Leni properly later on when that reporter was no longer by her side.

Now, where was Baste? The last time he was here, they had gone to Baste's room, but that was because it was after dinner. Now, he wondered where he was in the morning. Maybe he wasn't even here at all, and Sandro would feel doubly stupid for coming over without even checking if the man he wanted to visit was even home.

To be sure, he made his way to the living quarters. He knew which one was Baste's room by now. So he went there and knocked and then opened the door. Sure enough, no one was there. The room looked clean and made up. Baste must already be at work, wherever work was.

"Mr Marcos?"

Sandro blinked and turned around. Who would know him like this? He had his back turned and even though the media had picked up on him in the tabloids and columns, he was still basically unknown. So who would recognize him when he had his back turned?

The man who called out his name looked like a middle aged fellow. He was wearing a plain white polo shirt and his head was shaved clean.

Sandro had never seen this man his entire life.

Sandro frowned slightly. "Do I know you?"

The man smiled and shook his head. "I'm afraid you don't. Ronald Dela Rosa, new head of the Philippine National Police."

"Ah, I've heard of you, but I haven't had the chance to meet you in person." Sandro came closer to shake his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

So this was Ronald Dela Rosa, Rodrigo Duterte's right hand man of sorts back in Davao. He wasn't due to be seated as head of the PNP until next week. What was he doing in Manila so early?

"Pleasure's mine," Ronald said as he shook Sandro's hand back. "Are you looking for sir Baste by any chance?"

Sandro nodded and the older man smiled. "He's in his temporary office. I can show you where it is."

"Thank you," Sandro said quickly as he followed him. He found it strange why this man knew immediately who he was, why he was here, who he was looking for, and didn't even question what he was doing in the personal quarters of the first family. His eyes narrowed slightly at the thought that maybe, just maybe Baste was telling people about them? It wasn't something he wanted to hide really, but given that things were rocky recently, especially with their fathers' friendship being targeted by the media the past few days. He didn't want the media to get full wind of how close he and Baste actually were. The fewer people who knew the better.

The walk to Baste's office was awfully quiet as Sandro was lost in his thoughts. It also didn't take them a long time to get there.

Ronald knocked on the door and a gruff " _Unsa ma_ n?" (What is it?) came from behind closed doors.

 _"Naa kay bisita sir_ ," (You have a guest sir) Ronald said as he stepped away from the door. "He's in a bad mood, but he'll be in a better one once he sees you," he said as he walked away from Sandro.

That was really weird. That Ronald guy knew something, Sandro knew it.

But whatever, he finally arrived here and he could surprise Baste finally. So he took a deep breath to steady his heart and then opened the door.

As soon as he opened it, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Baste was seated behind his desk, his hair more tousled than usual, his brows furrowed into a frown, and it looked like he hadn't had any decent sleep. But it was still a sight that stole Sandro's breath away. He was really smitten with Baste Duterte obviously.

"Hey... can I come in? You look busy."

As soon as Baste heard his voice though, his expression softened considerably and he quickly opened his drawer and threw the documents he was reading in there. "Hey! Why didn't you call?" Baste stood up quickly and offered Sandro a lopsided grin. "And how did you get in?"

Sandro shrugged. "I just got in. Was fairly easy,"  he lied.

Baste raised an eyebrow. "Really. Looks like I have to fire some guards for not doing their jo...."

"Tita Leni helped me in," Sandro quickly corrected his story.

"I have to thank her later then." Baste laughed and motioned for Sandro to come closer. "Come here, I missed you."

Sandro blushed at that comment and quickly closed the gap between them. He didn't want to run, but he didn't want to take his time forever either. So he ended up doing a half jog half brisk walk towards Baste's desk. "You seemed busy, what were you working on?"

"Ah, nothing important," Baste said quickly as sat back down on his chair and patted his leg. "Come here."

Sandro pouted. "As much as I miss you, I'm curious as to what you're working on," he said, playing hard to get.

" _Pakipot pa, sige_ " (Playing hard to get huh?) Baste teased as he reached out to hold Sandro's hand, and then forcefully tugged the younger man on to his lap.

"Baste!" Sandro gasped, barely managing to catch the boxed bottle of champagne in his arms. His bag fell down to the floor but he didn't mind. He didn't want to break the bottle of champagne! He got his bearings back and slapped Baste's shoulder. "Don't do that!"

His anger was rewarded with a round of laughter from the older man.

"Baste!"

Baste laughed some more and wrapped his arms around Sandro, effectively silencing the younger man. "Sorry, I'm just so happy that you came over to see me," he said softly, pressing a soft kiss to Sandro's lips. "You've made me really really happy."

Sandro promptly blushed and hid his face behind the champagne box he still had in his arms.

" _Nahiya na_ ," (Now you're being shy) Baste teased as he leaned in to press a kiss to Sandro's ear instead, earning him a sharp squeak from the Marcos heir.

"Baste, we're in your office, don't... ah~"

"Don't what?" Baste whispered breathily in Sandro's ear, earning him another gasp.

"Don't... cameras..."

"I had them take off the cameras," Baste whispered again as he dared lick Sandro's earlobe. "Can't work properly if I know there are eyes watching."

Sandro felt like putty in Baste's arms. He came here to give a present! To visit! Not to get molested! But ... did he really have it in him to push Baste away? He really didn't. Not when he secretly dreamt of having these strong arms around him, of having Baste so close that he could feel him breathe. Seeing him everyday was not the same as getting to touch him or getting touched by him. Of course Sandro was shy, it was his first time with a guy. It was his first time with a partner, he was a total virgin after all. But that didn't mean he didn't know what he desired. Meeting up at home, Baste was obviously holding back. His brothers did have a tendency to just barge into his room after all. So even if they did see each other so often, it was rare for Baste to show him outward signs of affection that went past kissing.

Maybe because they weren't in Sandro's home, that's why Baste felt less inhibited?

There was no way he could stop Baste's advances. Not like he really wanted to. It would have probably ended with Sandro getting half naked in there except it didn't because there was a knock on the door and Baste had to stop what he was doing.

"Pestengyawa," (Fuckers) Baste growled lowly and that elicited a shiver down Sandro's back. He had heard that curse in Baste's local dialect so many times before, but when Baste says it in his low growling voice, it just sounded so damn sexy.

Sandro felt Baste's arms pull away from him and the younger man couldn't help but let out a soft sigh.

"I know, just let me get this over with," Baste muttered as he brushed Sandro's cheek gently. He reached for the champagne box and put it on his table. "Go and sit there," he said, directing Sandro to the chair in front of his desk. Sandro scrambled off his lap and quickly went there. He understood. If he sat there, it would look like they were just having a nice chat, or were talking regarding formal business, and not doing some hanky panky business.

As soon as Sandro was seated down, Baste said, "Come in," in a loud voice.

"May we come in?" It was Leni Robredo's voice but Sandro didn't relax one bit. She said "we" and he knew who she had tagged along with her. Sandro tried to be on his best behavior, sitting properly and smiling at the older man as if he wasn't on Baste's lap just seconds ago. But as he had his attention on the door, he didn't notice when Baste leaned down under his desk to grab Sandro's bag. The bag stayed under the table, but Baste had spotted the small pouch of cookies and placed it on the table.

"Of course," Baste said and the door creaked open to reveal what Sandro had feared - that reporter had tagged along.

Sandro turned back to look at Baste to see his reaction to a reporter coming into his office and his eyes widened in horror when he saw the plastic bag of burnt cookies on the table right beside the champagne box. He wanted to kick Baste, no he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

"Ah, Raffy, what can I do for you?" Baste asked, voice as polite as ever.

Leni led Raffy Tima into the room. "Sorry for the short notice. He interviewed me, and since he was here, he was wondering if he could do an interview of you as well."

"Unfortunately interviews can only be scheduled through our spokesperson. I actually have an interview scheduled with ABS CBN tomorrow and they went through the due process. I'm afraid I don't do sudden interviews." Baste said calmly as he reached for, much to Sandro's horror, the plastic package of burnt cookies.

"Even just a few questions?" Raffy pressed.

Sandro wanted to grab the pack of cookies and run. But with the reporter here he couldn't. He only wished to god that Baste would see how burnt they were and if he didn't, that he would at least not get an upset stomach after trying one.

"We can schedule one, apologies Raffy, you know we don't give special favors. Even to news reporters," Baste said as he popped in one charred biscuit into his mouth.

Sandro wanted to die. But Baste didn't seem to be affected at all as he chewed on the burnt pastry and continued to smile and talk to Raffy like nothing was wrong. "My father's administration is built on equality, no speed bumps through the process regardless of who you are. So I'm afraid you'll have to wait, like everyone else."

Raffy sighed and nodded."Well it was worth a try."

Leni shrugged at him. "Told you he wouldn't agree. But at least you tried." Then to Baste, "Interesting cookies. Did Yulia make those?"

Sandro wanted to die. Yulia, Baste's young daughter. His cookies looked like they were made by a five year old.  
Baste looked calm and collected, but Sandro KNEW. He knew he was in for a lot of teasing when they were alone again. He had half the mind to leave the room when Leni and Raffy both left.

Baste chuckled and nodded. "She tried her best."

"They get better. My daughters were terrible when they first started cooking. Now, I have no complaints."

Baste nodded. "I think these already taste great."

Sandro felt his heart skip a beat as Baste's eyes fixed slowly on his, making it feel like he was talking to him directly. "It's the thought that counts. That they did something they weren't used to and you know how much effort they put into it, I think that's what matters the most." Then Baste broke off eye contact as quickly as he had made it, leaving Sandro's heart beating fast and his mind half turned to goo. 

"I agree," Leni said and then turned to Raffy. "Well, I guess, I need to show you back out then."

Raffy Tima nodded and said his farewells to both Sandro and Baste. He then followed Leni out of the room. As soon as that door closed, Sandro remembered his earlier plan that was to leave with Leni and Raffy.

But Sandro didn't have much time to mull over his wasted opportunity of escape from Baste's teasing. Because not a few seconds passed since the door closed, Baste was on his feet and walked around his desk to pull Sandro into his arms again, hugging him tighter than before. "How many batches?"

"B...Baste?" Sandro squeaked. He didn't really understand what was going on.

"How many batches of cookies did you make?"

"TH...three..."

"Did anyone help you?"

Sandro shook his head.

"Did you burn your hands?"

"A... a little."

And immediately Baste had pulled back slightly, and then he took one of Sandro's hands to examine the fingers and press soft kisses along the fingers with fresh bandages. "Stupid Sandro... don't hurt yourself for me next time ok?" he murmured.

Sandro's cheeks promptly turned pink. This? This is what Baste was concerned about? "I wasn't supposed to give them, they were burnt and .... and you shouldn't have eaten one."

Baste gently nipped at one of Sandro's fingers, one that had no bandage on it and growled lowly. "You made them for me, I want them. I will eat them down to the last crumb."

Sandro blinked and instantly turned pink. "They taste horrible."

"Not to me," Baste said as he leaned up to press a kiss on Sandro's palm. "I love them. I prefer it over the champagne any day."

Sandro blushed and stayed silent as Baste let his hands go so he could wrap his arms around the slim waist and pull Sandro  close again. "I love anything that you give me Sandro, because I love you. You know that."

"I know..." Sandro murmured softly as he tilted his head and initiated the kiss this time.

This man was really an enigma, and it was no surprise that he was totally capturing Sandro's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone have guesses as to why Raffy Tima is really there? :3
> 
> Also my headcanon is Sandro cannot cook.... But I'm sure Baste will appreciate everything Sandro does for him <3


	13. Daddy 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After bringing the cookies and champagne, Sandro stays in Baste's office for the afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts immediately after Chapter 12 :3  
> This chapter is more fluffy and more steamy.  
> They don't go all the way yet, but there is more touching and kissing, as a warning for those who aren't 100% ok with that stuff 
> 
> Enjoy!

  
Chapter 13  
  
Daddy  
  
Sandro had the whole afternoon free, but Baste obviously didn't. For a man who didn't want to get into politics, Sandro thought that he was being too engrossed in his work. After Leni Robredo and Raffy Tima left Baste's temporary office, and after Baste had inspected all of Sandro's bandaged fingers, more work had to be done and Baste had gone back to them. They weren't political things, he claimed, mostly just stuff that had to be sorted out from his dad's campaign.  
  
He had apologized to Sandro, and had asked for him to wait a while as he worked. Of course Sandro had said yes. He would much rather stay here and watch Baste work than be somewhere else.  
  
But the more he watched Baste work, the more Sandro's thoughts went to unsafe territory. At first he was amused, and then he got bored. He had tried pacing, he had tried texting and even watching videos on his phone, and when he ran out of things to do he returned to watching Baste. But the more he did, the more his brain betrayed him.  
  
He seemed to notice everything. The slightest of frowns, the furrowed brows, the way his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, even the way Baste nipped on his lip ring at irregular intervals, all of these ticks were noted and stowed away for future references.  
  
But what amazed Sandro was the fact that Baste could concentrate on his work this much. He had mentioned before that he didn't have the best concentration and that he was bad with small details, but the more Sandro watched him work, the more he thought otherwise. In fact the more he watched him, the more he was reminded of his own father. Even as a child he loved watching his dad work, to see the determination of those furrowed brows, and that concentration that rivaled none. It was nice to watch and it was something he had emulated to become. Well not as someone active in politics, but at least someone who could focus on his work the same way his father did.  
  
"You're just like dad," he murmured.  
  
Baste paused his writing and looked up with an amused look on his face, Sandro blinked and asked, "What? Is there something on my face?"  
  
Baste chuckled and shrugged. "You think I'm like your dad?"  
  
Sandro immediately flushed and cursed under his breath.  
  
"I guess I wasn't supposed to hear that huh?" Baste asked, even more amused now as he watched Sandro's try to come up with a retort.  
  
Unfortunately Sandro had no come back for that, and his only response was to pout and to cross his arms.  
  
That earned him a refreshing round of laughter from Baste. Sandro responded with an even bigger pout and a deeper blush.  
  
_"Di pa tayo may nickname na ako agad_?" (We're not a couple yet and already you have a nickname for me?) Baste teased. "I could get used to being called Dad. You won't be the first one though," he added as he put down his pen and put the documents into one folder.  
  
Sandro grabbed one blank piece of paper closest to him, crumpled it, and then threw it at Baste's face. "I am not calling you dad!"  
  
Baste smirked as he took the crumpled piece of paper and threw it properly into the wastebasket underneath his desk. "You just did. I think Yulia will get really jealous if she heard you say that though."  
  
"Don't compare me to your daughter!"  
  
"You cook like her..."  
  
"Baste!"  
  
Baste laughed again as the Marcos heir sat on his chair seething and sending him daggers with his eyes. "Cute," he chuckled as he reached out and ruffled Sandro's hair from across the desk."I don't mind being called daddy. You can. Actually, it would be really cute if you did. It's like our own little dirty secret."  
  
Sandro felt the huge hand on his head, petting him and he felt himself calming down despite his annoyance at the teasing. "What we have _is_ our dirty little secret, we don't need to add more to it."  
  
"Hmmmm what if I want more dirty secrets with you?" Baste asked, and Sandro was kind of taken aback by the seriousness of his tone. It seemed like teasing was over? It was always like this with Baste, he could change between teasing and then serious so quickly, and Sandro loved that about him because it always added some uncertainty to him and it was hard to predict what he would do.  
  
"What more can we do?" Sandro asked, his tone vastly different from the raging teenager being teased earlier to a more subtle, if not shy, tone of a lover being offered more.  
  
Baste smirked, a different kind of smirk, more predatory, more _wanting_ , and it made Sandro shiver despite himself. There was a table between Baste and him, but Sandro could tell,just with the way Baste looked at him, that Baste WANTED him.  
  
"There are so many things I want to do to you Sandro Marcos," Baste murmured, and to Sandro it sounded like a purr, a purr that sent pleasant shivers down his spine. "I want to kiss you,  to pin you down wherever I could and make you mine. I want you Sandro, if I haven't said that enough."  
  
"You... you have..." Sandro murmured, sure that his blush had now spread up to his ears and down his neck.  
  
Honestly Sandro had been wondering for a while now. Baste would get aggressive at times, kissing him more passionately and hugging him more than before. But every time they seemed to get further, Baste would stop suddenly. Sandro knew it wasn't because Baste wasn't attracted to him, no. Because Baste would declare that he was pretty and handsome and  beautiful sometimes. Baste would go on for hours about his eyes and his hair and his skin and fingers.  
  
So to Sandro, it felt like Baste was holding back, something was stopping him and Sandro didn't know why.  
  
"What's stopping you then?" Sandro asked meekly. What he saw flash across Baste's eyes made his heart thud harder against his chest. If he thought Baste looked like he wanted him earlier? Boy, was he wrong. Because now Baste looked like he would jump him right this second.  
  
"What's stopping me is that you're not mine yet," Baste answered, his eyes focused on Sandro's.  
  
"What do you mean?" Sandro asked, almost squeaked, hating how small his voice sounded, and how small he felt when Baste went into this mode. But this was the side to Baste that had him excited in ways that words could not explain. (1)

Baste sighed and broke eye contact. At first, Sandro thought that he wouldn't answer him, but Baste just broke eye contact enough so he could motion for Sandro to come closer.  
  
"Someone might knock on the door again," Sandro muttered. But he still stood up from his chair and made his way around the table to get to Baste.  
  
"Remember when I took a break to go to the bathroom earlier? I locked the door when I came back," Baste said as he wrapped his arm around Sandro's waist and pulled him down on to his lap gently. "Our staff know not to disturb me after 4 pm too, so no one's coming in here unless there's an emergency."  
  
"So we're here alone?" Sandro asked, voice cracking slightly as the thudding of his heard and the presence of Baste overwhelmed his senses.  
  
"As alone as we could be," Baste murmured as he leaned in to press a kiss on Sandro's neck, elliciting a soft moan from the Marcos heir.  
  
"Ba...Baste..." Sandro whimpered softly as he reached out and clutched at Baste's shirt.  
  
"Sh... if you don't like it just tell me," Baste murmured against the soft skin of Sandro's neck. His tongue flicked out and Sandro let out a surprised gasp, his hold on Baste's shirt tightening.  
  
"Not... not that I don't like it... just... just..." Sandro couldn't really concentrate when he could feel Baste's lips on his neck, and his neck was so very sensitive, he didn't know that until now.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Well... ah... you didn't answer my question..." Sandro forced the lips out of his lips since talking seemed to be really really difficult when Baste was all over him.  
  
Baste paused his kisses and let out a soft sigh. "I think that's pretty obvious isn't it?"  
  
"It's not obvious to me... " Sandro murmured, pouting again, though it wasn't his angry pout. It was more of his "I do not understand" pout and it really looked adorable.  
  
Baste sighed again and used his thumb and forefinger to tip Sandro's chin. "What I meant by you not being completely mine is that, you have not given me an answer yet."  
  
Sandro blinked. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Sandro, I've been courting you for the past few weeks now," Baste said. "And my self control is wearing thin, because really you have no idea how adorable you look. When you smile, when you laugh, when you pout, even when you tap your feet impatiently..."  
  
"I don't tap my feet...."  
  
"And now you come here and made cookies for me,even if you didn't know how to, and burning some of your fingers because of it.... But I can't let my self control slip away. I can't touch you more than  that unless you're my boyfriend. And you haven't given me an answer yet... so I...I have to keep myself under control."  
  
Sandro blinked and then promptly turned into a bright red tomato. That, that was what Baste had been waiting for? For him to say yes?  How much more polite is this man going to be?! But at the same time Sandro was glad, that Baste respected him enough to patiently wait for him, to actually hear him expressly say yes to being his lover.  
  
Sandro smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the fingers Baste was using to keep his chin tipped up. "I should tell you the same, I was wondering when you were ever going to ask."  
  
Sandro wrapped his arms around Baste's shoulders and leaned in to press their lips together in a gentle and chaste kiss. "My attention was yours that day we met at the airport, and my heart was yours the moment you sang that cheesy song outside my window, or maybe even before that I can't really tell anymore. All I know is that I love you you, you Southern brute," he ended with a soft giggle. "If me getting wasted just at the thought of losing you wasn't enough. I want you too, all to myself. So yes, if you wanted an answer? Yes, yes I want to be yours Baste Duterte."  
  
And Sandro knew, at that moment, when Baste's arms wrapped themselves around his body, and those soft lips crushed against his own in a kiss that quickly took his breath away, that Baste had taken away his restrictions.  
  
Perhaps it was the thought of a restriction less Baste that excited him, but Sandro knew he was getting tense, and Baste definitely sensed the sudden tension in the body of the man in his arms.  
  
Baste momentarily pulled away from the kiss and licked Sandro's lower lip gently in apology. "Shh... sorry if I scared you."  
  
"I'm not scared.. just nervous and excited, just to name a few emotions I'm feeling at the moment," Sandro murmured as he licked his lips. He could still taste Baste on his lips and damn he could get addicted to him.  
  
Baste chuckled. "My spoiled little princess," he purred. "I'll make you feel good but I won't go all the way, don't worry. I'll do that after I get permission from your parents."  
  
Sandro nearly choked on his own breath. Just how old fashioned was Baste going to get?! "Holy  hell, you're more old fashioned than I thought," he muttered. "For all your bad boy imagery, you are such an old fashioned romantic."  
  
"I am, but you love me anyway,"  
   
"I do... " Sandro said with a cute pout again. "But you know we can't tell our parents this so easily right?"  
  
"I know... just, just wait ok? I want to do this right." Baste took a deep breath and shook his head. "I already messed up two relationships. I want to make this one right. You make me feel things that I cannot explain and I want to fight to make it right, every step of the way."  
  
Sandro felt a renewed blush creeping up his cheeks. Hopeless romantic or not, it was making him feel even more love for this man. He wanted to make this right for Sandro, it wasn't just a night of passion, or a fling. It wasn't just sex. Baste wanted to make it right, make it work.  
  
"I'll wait Baste," Sandro murmured as he once again initiated the kiss, leaning in to press their lips together. "My heart is all yours, my body can wait...." Sandro paused, and then, with a naughty twinkle in his eye, added ".... _daddy_."  
  
That elicited a low growl from Baste and the Marcos heir found himself pinned against the table. With the snap of a finger Baste had gotten up and had pinned Sandro on the table he was working on earlier. He had been fast, but he had pinned him down gently. Sandro was thankful that Baste had enough self control to not slam him down hard on the table.  
  
Baste had both hands on both sides of Sandro's head and Sandro could definitely see desire in those eyes, and his chest was heaving. Was he panting? They haven't even done a lot yet.  
  
"Say that again," Baste growled from above him.  
  
Sandro smiled coyly, fluttering his eyes, since Baste seemed to love him doing that. " _Daddy_ ," he said teasingly.  
  
"Sandro, you're gonna drive me crazy" Baste growled again as he leaned down and kissed Sandro hard, using his larger body to pin down the slender form beneath him. Sandro moaned into the kiss, his arms sliding around Baste's shoulders so he could pull the other man closer to him. "Sandro, Sandro... SAndro," Baste kept murmuring his name as his tongue slipped into Sandro's and his large hands finally made themselves useful by feeling up Sandro's slender form.  
  
"Shirt... ah... take...of...Baste..." Sandro gasped with each opportunity he had, which was not very much. Baste barely gave him time to breathe.  
  
Baste ignored him and did the unbuttoning himself, which earned him a hard smack on his shoulder. "WHat?"  
  
" _Magugusot damit ko_ ," (My clothes will get rumpled) Sandro muttered as he pushed Baste back so he could sit up and unbutton his shirt. As he reached the third button, he looked at Baste staring at him and raised an eyebrow. "What?"  
  
"This is the best strip tease ever," Baste said with a smirk.  
  
That comment earned him another piece of crumpled paper thrown directly at his face. Baste laughed and shook his head. "You are so adorable Sandro," he purred as he used his fingers to trace down the slender chest.  
  
Sandro opened his lips to speak, to tell Baste that his fingers felt so GOOD on his skin. But before he could open his lips, he heard the very loud and very distinct sound of his phone ringing. It was the ringtone he had assigned specifically to family too, so he couldn't miss this call.  "Are you kidding me? Seriously?!" he grumbled as he scrambled off the table and bent down to get to his bag.  
  
He could hear the amused laughter of Baste behind him as he picked out his phone from his bag. "It's mom," he murmured as he quickly unlocked his phone. "Mom? What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong iho, your dad and I were just wondering when you would be home?"  
  
Sandro shrugged. "Maybe in a while. Don't we usually have dinner at 7? It's only 4:30, so I didn't think I needed to be home until like 6?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Baste fish out his phone as well and a confused frown marred Baste's features as he looked at the screen.  
  
"Ah, yeah, your dad just called to say that the Dutertes are coming for dinner, so you need to come home earlier."  
  
At that moment, Sandro looked at Baste and his, now, lover, let out a loud sigh and a nod. He had obviously gotten the same message about dinner from his father.  
  
***  
  
  
Raffy Tima had just gotten back to his office from his trip from Malacanang. He was tired and he had to sort through the interview he had with Leni Robredo. It wasn't an easy commute from the Palace to the GMA News headquarters and he was tired. Most of his colleagues, and even his wife, were out on their individual beats and the office looked almost deserted.  
  
He sighed as he sat down on his chair and put down his bag. He was tired. But at the same time he was nervous. He looked around and when he decided that definitely none of his coworkers were around, he pulled out his cellphone and checked the photos he had taken earlier.  
  
After he and Leni Robredo had left Baste's office earlier, he had asked her to go on ahead. He had one question he had to ask Sandro Marcos about his father and even though the Duterte son was not open to interviews, perhaps Marcos was. So he had gone back, and was bold enough to open the door without knocking because they had just left anyway.  
  
He opened it and was shocked to see that Baste Duterte had Sandro Marcos in his arms, hugging him tight. His instinct told him to leave, to shut the door and go away.  
  
But the reporter in him could not resist. He pulled his phone out and quickly took a few snaps. They weren't the clearest photos, but they were better than nothing.  
  
Raffy wasn't this kind of reporter. He wasn't interested in tabloids or blind items. Raffy was an honest to god good reporter, which was why his beat assignment was government and national issues. His network and their audience trusted him with the important issues.  
  
This wasn't an important issue, so why was he interested in it?  
  
Because of what Rodrigo Duterte did to his wife. He had gone into Baste's office earlier to get his comments regarding his father's catcalling on his wife during that press conference in Davao the night before. He had gotten an anonymous tip earlier that Baste may be the man to interview for comments on the incident. But Baste had been closed to the idea of an interview, and so Raffy felt that he had wasted his time and opportunity. Interviewing Leni had only been a cover. It was Baste he really wanted to interview.  
  
He didn't get the interview, but he got something more interesting instead.  
  
"How low are you going to sink?" he muttered as he cradled the phone in his hands, the picture of the two men hugging still on his display.  
  
He was staring at the phone so intently, weighing pros and cons, when the phone suddenly started vibrating and he almost dropped it in his surprise.  
  
He quickly scrambled to punch in his security code, and read the message. It was from the same number that gave him the tip about interviewing Baste, and on his screen was the simple message.  
  
_"Ano pa ang hinihintay mo?"_ (What are you waiting for?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Sorry it's not as long as chapter 12. But I felt like I should cut it there or else it will go on forever. 
> 
> (1) Baby Sandro, we can explain for you - you're getting turned on
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this far!  
> As usual comments are very much appreciated!  
> I check my mail every other hour to check for comments (I'm a comment whore) aahahhahah.  
> No but really, all your comments make it so easy to plan and write the next chapter. So thank you very much! I love you guys! <3
> 
>  
> 
> [edit] Some readers got confused about the timeline so I'll try to explain the timeline and avoid confusion.
> 
> Chapter 12 happened around 2-3pm.   
> Leny and Raffy came around 2:30 pm.  
> Baste's bathroom break was around 3:30 pm  
> Chapter 13 is around 4pm.   
> Raffy took the snaps around 2:35 pm
> 
>  
> 
> :)))) sorry for the confusing timelines >\


	14. Daddy 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dutertes join the Marcoses for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delays, because RL sucks right now. But this is one of my best distractions at the moment, so I’ll keep going at it.
> 
> Also apologizing that I continue writing through Sandro's POV most of the time, it's just easier for me because he is a mess of emotions and is super interesting to delve into. Baste on the other hand is more calculated and certain and there's not much to write about him. If I wrote in his POV all the time, it will be filled with imagery of cute/sexy Sandro.
> 
> But yey chapter 14! Didn't realize it would get this long, but it's just going to get longer! I have so many things planned for this fanfic, and hopefully you all enjoy what I have planned <3

 

 

Chapter 14 

 

Daddy 2

*

Baste POV 

 

Baste helped Sandro get his bearings together, and also helped calm the flustered and visibly annoyed younger man. There was no side to Sandro that he found un-cute. Of course there was smiling happy side, the serious thinking side, and while the awkward and shy side was his absolute favorite, this angry and annoyed combination was also adorable. Angry and annoyed Sandro, he realized, puffs out his cheeks and his lips turn pouty. The curses he was dishing out was something Baste could do without, but who could blame him?

 

Baste was disappointed himself. They were about to take a step further into this relationship, and yes they were now in a relationship! It was something that had Baste on cloud 9 still. Maybe this was why he wasn't  really upset about the interruption. Otherwise, he would probably be as upset as Sandro was. And no, Baste was far from cute when he was upset. 

 

He showed his new boyfriend out of his office after a few more kisses and exchanged words of love. This was an unexpected turn for the both of them. Their families having dinner together? Obviously neither of them knew that their families were on such friendly terms. Heck, Baste didn't even know his dad was back from Davao. 

 

"Why this timing?" Sandro had grumbled, still pouting and frowning as he dragged his feet. 

 

"Don't worry about it," Baste had said, taking his hand and walking him out of the office like any normal boyfriend would. "It's just coincidence. Everything will work out," he had  assured his lover, boyfriend. 

 

Baste smiled despite himself. He still had to get used to it, but the very idea of referring to Sandro as his boyfriend still made him feel like a giddy teenager inside. It was more than he had felt with Kate, even more than he had felt with all his other exes in the past. He normally didn’t feel this  _ kilig  _ with anyone before, but Sandro really was proving to be a person who could draw out a lot of firsts for Baste. 

 

However, giddy feelings aside, it made Baste even more protective of the younger man. 

He had made sure that Sandro had been picked up by his chauffeur, and also made sure that the bodyguard he had assigned to him was following him closely. 

 

When Sandro was safely on his way home, Baste made his way back to his office. He sighed and opened his desk drawer again, fishing out the envelope he had hidden from Sandro earlier. He had reviewed the candidates Ronald Dela Rosa had given him and he had chosen the best ones to keep his lover safe. He had given them strict instructions to tail him, to note any suspicious activity of those around him, and to only take action when Sandro's life was in danger. Otherwise, they should never show themselves to him. 

 

He flipped through the pages of the files and his eyes settled on the photos from the cctv cameras of Davao International Airport the day he arrived to talk to Kate. They were still investigating it but they already had some leads as to who took the photographs. Davao PD was still in a state of rearranging itself after Dela Rosa left for Manila, but they had promised Baste results before the month was over.  

 

He would personally go to Davao and question the motherfucker who hurt Sandro.

 

"You're smiling like a mad person. It may have been the wrong decision to let you come to Manila to help dad's campaign. You seem to have gone crazy."

 

Baste rolled his eyes at his elder brother Paolo, who obviously came in without bothering to knock. He closed the folder and put it back inside his drawer. "I'm not crazy. And since when did you arrive in Manila?" he muttered.

 

"You definitely looked angry but you were smiling so it was fucking creepy bro," Paolo said. "Whatever floats your boat, as long as you don't kill someone. As for arriving, arrived with dad last night."

 

Baste rolled his eyes. "I'm not a hitman," he muttered as he grabbed his phone and stuffed it into his pants pocket. He made sure his desks were all closed, pushed his chair back into its original position, and then went off to follow Paolo. “D _ i pa naman tayo late diba _ ? (We're not late yet right?) So what's the hurry?"

 

"Dad doesn't trust Manila traffic," Paolo said as they walked out of Baste's temporary office. "We got stuck in traffic for 2 hours last night. New agenda by the way, he’s also going to do something about the truck schedule and the roadwork DSWD is doing in Manila. South super high way was not moving at 12 midnight, could you believe it? Eskinatas in Davao have smoother traffic.  _ Kalkal dito, kalkal doon, tapos mga truck wala din disiplina. _ (They dig here, they dig there, and the trucks have no discipline.)"

 

"Sounds like a rough night."

 

"You should have heard dad, I swear his swear words grow in volume each day he spends in Manila."

 

"And yours?"

 

Paolo laughed. "It's getting there. We are our dad's sons after all, we're destined to inherit his tongue."

 

Baste laughed along with his brother as they arrived in the parking lot. They made their way to the small second hand car that Baste used as his ride for his stay in Manila. 

 

" _ Akin na ung susi , _ " (Give me the keys)  Paolo said and Baste rolled his eyes. 

 

"It's my ride," Baste muttered but gave the keys to his elder brother anyway. 

 

Paolo grinned and they both boarded the car. He locked the doors, a habit both brothers only picked up since moving to Manila. "But you always let big brother have his way," he said as he started the car. 

 

*

 

Sandro POV

 

Sandro had changed into a new set of clothes. It felt weird to be having dinner with Baste's family in clothes that he wore while making out with their son. Making out… He quickly tried to get that thought out of his head before it went to unsafe territory. He  then straightened his polo shirt and made sure all the buttons were buttoned properly. 

 

His brothers weren't in the country at the moment, so Sandro had to be on his best behaviour. He will be the only Marcos son at dinner so he had to be the best. He couldn't let his father down. 

 

There will only be the three of them - him, his mom and dad. According to his mom there will also be three from the Duterte side, the patriarch Rody, the eldest son Paolo and Baste of course. 

 

Sandro didn't know how well he would be able to keep himself in line, but he hoped he could, for his father's sake. He was still giddy that he was no longer single, that he was in a relationship with this handsome, simple, fucking gorgeous, and brilliant man from Davao. But he knew it wouldn't be so easy, it wasn't something he could say to his father or mother and not be judged. 

 

Their parents had to know, eventually. But they didn't have to rush. Baste was right, they had to tread carefully and take it one step at a time.

 

Sandro gave himself a final once over in the mirror before finally making his way out of his room. 

 

When he got downstairs, his mom and dad were already in the dining room. His dad was wearing a white polo shirt, and his mom was wearing a purple blouse with sequins. She looked beautiful in that color. Also, he loved how both of them didn't dress up for meeting the Dutertes. Whenever they had guests, his mom would have diamonds on her ear and neck, and the prettiest gowns from the top designers of the country. It said a lot that they didn't bother to put on a facade for the Dutertes. He already knew his father respected Rody but it was refreshing to see that he trusted him enough to show how he usually was when he was eating dinner with his family. That could have started during that lunch in that carinderia in Ilocos,and it was truly refreshing.

 

"Sandro anak," (son) Liza waved him over as soon as he stepped into the dining room. 

 

Sandro came towards his mom and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Are they here yet?"

 

"I heard them come up the driveway. They should be in here soon," his father answered for him. "You should be fine talking with Paolo and Baste?" Bongbong asked his son. "I heard from your mom that Baste has been coming by often. It's nice to see you hanging out with someone other than Roxas' boy. Just don't get his bad habit ok?"

 

"Bad habit?" 

 

Sandro knew his dad and mom didn't fully approve of his friendship with his cousin, saying he was a bad influence. But what did he have to say about Baste? If he remembered right, he had given him Sandro's number back when Sandro had to fill in for his sick dad. Also Baste had visited him in the hospital, so his dad should have had a good impression right?

 

Bong Bong raised an eyebrow, as if saying that it should be pretty obvious. "Son, he's 28, has two kids with different women, and he's not married. I don't think that's a good role model for you either."

 

Sandro felt his chest tighten with those words. That meant his father didn't like Baste. Well he liked him on the political side maybe, but as a person and as a friend to Sandro, perhaps not. 

 

"I thought you liked Tito Rody's family? And didn't he visit you in the hospital back when you were sick? You also gave him my number and all..."

 

"I did," his father said without missing a beat and Sandro found himself wincing internally. "He seems like a good guy and a guy you can trust. But what has he achieved? Both Paolo and Sara have served as Mayor and Vice Mayor of Davao. But what has Baste achieved? Two kids out of wet luck, and nothing to show for it. He's 28 already for crying out loud. I'm sure he's a good guy, and he's obviously a good friend to you. But 28 and still nothing to show for it?"

 

Liza rolled her eyes at her husband while Sandro stayed silent. "Dear, have you talked to him? Baste is a brilliant boy. He just chooses not to get into politics."

 

Oh thank god for his mother. Sandro wanted to hug her right now. 

 

"I didn't say he wasn't brilliant. He is.  _ Kaso dalawang babae ba naman anakan _ ?" (Except, getting two women pregnant, really? ) It would have been ok if it was just one, you could say he was young and ignorant. But two? K _ awawa lang ung susunod na magugustuhan nya, baka anakan lang tapos di naman pakakasalan. _ " (I pity the next girl he ends up liking, maybe he'll just have a kid with her and then not marry her)" 

 

Sandro had to take deep breaths to calm himself. Perhaps Baste's idea of talking to his dad was not a good idea after all. Maybe they should just elope? But elope where?

Davao? No his dad would find them there. England? Baste would probably be like fish out of water. What about Asian countries? Hong kong maybe, or Korea.... or Thailand. Anywhere where they could hide?

 

But his thoughts didn't have very far to go as Liza tapped him on the shoulder. "They're here," she said to him softly. 

 

That snapped him out of his thoughts. He nodded and quickly tried to wipe the thoughts of eloping from his head. He needed to be on his best behavior, talking to Baste about his father could wait until later. 

 

The doors to the dining room opened and in came the three Dutertes. The aura this family had was unmistakeable. They had no bodyguards with them, and they were wearing plain t shirts, as if they were going out on a quick errand to the closest sari sari store instead of visiting a political friend’s family.

 

But of course Sandro's eyes didn't linger on any of the other two Dutertes, he only had eyes for one.

 

Sandro watched as Baste followed his brother and dad into the dining room, watched as he stayed in the back of the group of three, watched as he sat down on the other side of the table, and promptly smiled when he saw those eyes on him. 

 

" _ Uy, musta ka na _ ?" (Hey how are you?) was the awkward question, accompanied by an awkward smile from his boyfriend. 

 

Sandro had to bite his inner cheek to keep himself from laughing at the awkwardness of the situation. They had been kissing, and taking off each other's clothes not a few hours earlier, and then now they were sitting across each other around Sandro's family's dinner table, trying to sound and act like they were just friends. If that wasn't a funny situation, he didn't know what was. 

 

"I'm great," Sandro said as he tried to keep himself from laughing at the absurdity of it all. “And you? The internet and media can’t seem to get enough of you. How’ve you been holding up?”

 

Baste raised an eyebrow momentarily. Sandro could imagine him getting back with a line like “ _ You can’t seem to get enough of me either” _ if only they were alone. But they weren’t and he could tell that Baste was doing his best to not let anything slip. 

 

“Ah, I’m good at dodging media apparently,” Baste answered as plainly as he could, waving a dismissive hand. 

 

“It’s nice to see you two getting along so well,” Liza interrupted. 

 

“I agree,” Paolo said as he nudged his younger brother with his elbow, to which Baste responded by clicking his tongue and making a “tsk” sound. “My younger brother doesn’t quickly bond with people. It’s kind of surprising and refreshing to see him this friendly with someone he hasn’t spent over a year with.”

 

“Over a year?” Sandro raised an eyebrow. “That’s how long it takes for you to warm up to people?’

 

Baste rolled his eyes at his brother and then turned back to Sandro. “He’s exaggerating.”

 

"You need at least a year knowing a person before you even consider trusting that person. That's why your friends are so few. And you're worse with girls," Paolo said as Baste continued glaring at him. 

 

"You better shut your trap or I'll..."

 

"Please continue Paolo," Sandro said as he placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. He was amused by how flustered the older Duterte could make his lover. Baste glared daggers at him, but Sandro continued with his facade and smiled warmly at Paolo. 

 

"He seems like such a charismatic young man, it's interesting to know that he was awkward when he was younger," Sandro's mother chimed in. "Do tell us more Paolo."

 

Paolo grinned and Sandro could see him elbow his elder brother more forcefully, but the older Duterte son didn't seem to feel it. 

 

"This guy is fucking charming with the ladies without even trying. But what they don’t know is that he is as  _ torpe a _ s  _ torpe _ gets," Paolo said and Baste settled to just glaring at his brother since elbowing him was not working. "They find it cute, but really he's just shy and plain  _ torpe. _ How long did it take you to even talk to Kate? A year? And another year before you started courting her?"

 

Sandro couldn't help but giggle at this revelation. His Baste (and how wonderful it felt to think of Baste as  _ HIS _ Baste), shy and t _ orpe _ ? Well he wasn't shy and  _ torpe  _ around Sandro at all. Maybe he was at first, but they only knew each other for about 2 or 3 months tops? That he had warmed up to Sandro so quickly despite being so shy with his past lovers, it only further proved to Sandro that this was different from Baste's past relationships. 

 

"A year to talk and another year to court?" Sandro couldn't help but repeat. 

 

He could swear, he saw a pink tinge on Baste's cheeks. But because he was so tanned, it was hard to tell. 

 

"Will you stop embarrassing me already?" Baste grumbled as he resumed elbowing his brother, and, as expected, there was no effect at all. 

 

"I only speak the truth brother."

 

"You see what I have to deal with everyday in Davao? You spend an entire day tired from the government office and then come home to two rowdy sons bickering. Their sister was the only one who had enough reason to not join in, " the Duterte patriarch finally paused his chat with Bong Bong to address his two sons. "Will you please stop acting like boys?"

 

" _ Tay _ , (dad) Ate Sara would start most of our fights, she just gets away with pretending to know nothing," Baste said in his and his brother's defense. 

 

"My boys were the same when they were  younger," Bong Bong said. "They're not as big as your boys though so the bickering didn't get too physical."

 

"You forgot the vases  they broke when Sandro was 10?" Liza asked her husband. 

 

Sandro blanched at that memory. It had been his Lola Imelda's favorite vase. She had received it from a descendant of the Chinese royalty or something and the value was worth millions of dollars. 

And they hadn't broken it because of their bickering. 10 year old Sandro kicked the stand it was on because he was having a tantrum over something, he didn't even remember what it was.

 

Bong Bong laughed and then turned to Rody. "At least your sons don't break vases worth millions of dollars because his brother didn't lend him the remote control for the tv."

 

Sandro's face, that had earlier paled from the memory, promptly turned bright pink as all eye turned to him. Baste's eyes turned to him and he could see the teasing spark behind those deep eyes.” 

 

"Oh my boys didn't have tantrums. They destroy stuff yes, but they punch their way through it."

 

"My boys throw tantrums, and the leader of it all is Sandro over there."

 

"Dad!" Sandro couldn't help but cry out as he turned even pinker. He didn't need Baste to know all this information. Too late though, as he saw his lover look at him with a smirk on his lips. Oh yes, he wasn't going to hear the end of this. 

 

"You're acting like a boy yourself, teasing your son like that. Stop it already," Liza said, taking her son's side. 

 

Bong Bong laughed at that. "See? That's why he throws tantrums. Over protected by the mommy and spoiled by the lola."

 

This time, all three Dutertes laughed along with him. Baste not so much, it was more of a good natured chuckle. But Sandro knew, he just knew that Baste would tease him to no end when they were finally alone. 

 

" _ Spoiled ka pala sa lola _ ," (Your grandma spoils you huh?) Baste had to say, and Sandro turned into a bright red tomato. Apparently Baste didn't even wait for them to be alone to tease him.

 

"I'm not spoiled," Sandro muttered, stomping his foot down on the floor and crossing his arms, earning him another chuckle from both Baste and Paolo. 

 

"Says the boy stomping his foot across the table right now," Baste continued to prod.

 

"I'm not!... " Sandro bit his lip when he realized that he was doing the exact thing he was being teased for.  

 

As Sandro realized this, he could see  unmistakeable mirth dancing in Baste’s eyes. His lover was definitely enjoying this at his expense and the thought made Sandro pout even more. He wasn't upset upset with Baste, just that he felt he was being singled out at the moment. 

 

And, as with most people, he blurted out the first thing on his mind when he was upset without thinking - food. He was upset and hungry and he just wanted to eat to get the attention away from himself. "Tigilan nyo na nga ako. At gutom nako, where's the food? Daddy can you check sa kitchen?" (Stop it. And I’m hungry, where’s the food. Daddy, can you check the kitchen?)

 

The only problem was, with all the teasing and all the laughter, Baste seemed to have dropped his guard down as well. 

 

You know how it goes in movies where everything becomes super slow motion as something unfolds and you can only watch in horror? That's how Sandro as both Baste and his father Bong Bong stood up from the dining table.

 

Both men had responded to the term “Daddy.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ED This chapter is mostly inspired by this meme 
> 
> (https://cdn.meme.am/instances/500x/54218970.jpg )
> 
> I had fun writing this, was a good distraction from the hell that was work this week.


	15. The Walls Have Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baste and BBM finally have the "Talk". Will they settle it on good terms or will BBM block all efforts by Baste?

 

Chapter 15

 

The Walls Have Eyes

 

Baste felt his whole body run cold when he realized his mistake. He didn't even realize that Sandro was not referring to him when he said the word "Daddy" until he saw the look of horror on his lover's face.

 

He had meant his real father. Sandro called BongBong daddy as well instead of the usual “dad”. Baste had messed up. He had messed up really bad.

 

Right now it was him and BongBong, both standing from their chairs, and time felt like it had stopped for Baste.

 

What should he do? He quickly racked his brain for anything. What sort of excuse could he make?

He had to go to the bathroom?

He wanted to be a good guest and help out?

Maybe he could just make up an excuse to go to the car and say he forgot his phone?

 

" _Sebastian, halika, tulungan mo ako sa kusina_ ," (Sebastian, come here and help me in the kitchen) were BongBong's words that snapped Baste out of ihs thoughts.

 

They weren't angry, nor did his voice raise an octave, as Baste had expected. But what scared Baste was that the Marcos' patriarch's voice was frighteningly calm. It was like the calm before a huge shitstorm and Baste was not used to such calculated anger. He was more used to explosive anger, anger like his father's.

 

" _Opo_ ," (Yes) the Duterte son said, flinching inwardly as his voice cracked slightly. His throat felt parched and his lips felt dry and he could swear he could feel his joints creaking under the stress.

 

He didn't dare look at his lover's face, nor did he dare look at his own father's or brother's. He didn't want to see the disappointment or the anger.He knew this "talk" with Sandro's father coming, just not this soon. He had no one but himself to blame for this slip up.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement from Sandro's chair, but Liza stopped her son before he could even stand. Baste appreciated his lover's gesture, but he would have to tackle this without Sandro's interferance. He had to assure the Marcos patriarch that he was a fit lover for his son.

 

Well, he wasn't even sure if BongBong would be ok with Sandro dating a guy. Maybe he should start there.

 

Baste steeled his heart, and followed BongBong to the kitchen, silent and staying on high alert.

 

The kitchen was not far, in fact, it was just a few minutes’ walk from the dining room. But Baste felt like he was walking for hours, his eyes just focusing on BongBong Marcos' back.

 

As soon as they got into the kitchen, he followed Bong Bong inside and closed the door behind them. He braced himself for a solid punch or a solid yelling from the father. When none came, he gathered his courage to ask. " _Di po ba kayo galit sakin?_ " (Are you not upset with me?)

 

His voice was soft, respectful. This was Sandro's father and he wanted to give a good impression.

 

"Is there a cause for me to get angry?" was the father's response as he motioned for the cooks to hurry up the cooking. " _Gutom na ung alaga ninyo, bilisan nyo na ung luto_." (Your ward is already very hungry, hurry it up.)

 

Baste bit his lower lip and took a deep breath. "I'm dating your son," he said plainly , steeling himself for the angry words that he assumed would follow. When there was none, he took a deep breath and continued. "I don't know if you know about your son's preference, I honestly don't swing this way until I met him. He could have been straight before all this. I know I was, and yet I still fell in love with him anyway.... ah I'm talking way too much," he grumbled in the end.

 

BongBong took a deep breath himself and finally turned to face Baste. "You know, I like you Baste. You seem like a good friend to my son, and you seem honest enough to at least tell me point blank that you're dating him. However... do you really think I will trust my son to a man who has had two failed relationships that resulted in children ?"

 

Baste bit his lower lip. Here it comes. He knew it was going to come sooner or later. The fact that he had children and two relationships that didn't really work out were not good points in any parent's book.

 

"You also said you were straight before all of this. How do I know that you are not just playing with his heart? And when you've had your fun, throw him aside like you did your women?"

 

Baste took a deep breath. "Sir if I may... Neither of my exes were thrown aside. In fact I'm still friends with Kate, my second ex. Neither of my kids are left aside either, I'm a responsible father. We are not married because although we were good together, we realized it was better that we remained friends. Sir what I feel for your son...I can't explain it. I'm just drawn to him. I've never felt anything like this for anyone else before."

 

"You broke up with her before you courted my son?" Bong Bong didn't seem impressed at all.

 

"Yes. I did not want to court Sandro unless I was a single man. It wouldn't have been fair to him and to her."

 

"Then what is my son's assurance, and my assurance, that when someday you are tired of him, and then you find someone who makes you "Feel" a certain way, that you won't break up with my son for that person?"

 

Baste blinked as Bong Bong made his point. He was at a loss for words, and he really didn't have an answer. He had loved Kate back then, before Yair was born. But then they had drifted apart. Right now he wanted Sandro, loved him, more than he loved anyone before, loved him beyond his life. But how could he convince his father, and even himself that they would not drift apart?

 

"Never thought about that did you?" Bong Bong asked, reading him so easily.

 

Baste sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sure you think I will only break your son's heart..."

 

"Of course I do, you think I wasn't aware of why he didn't come home for three days? I was young once, and I've been heartbroken too. He's my son, i know when he hurts even if he doesn't tell me."

 

Baste was silent. He had hurt Sandro hadn't he? That wasn't the plan but that was the reality of things anyway. He wouldn't blame it on the person who had sent the photo. If only he had been more open with Sandro then he wouldn't have been hurt. "It...I have no excuses," he murmured softly. "I love your son. But I also hurt him even before we were even together, I have no excuse for that. I take full responsibility."

 

He heard a loud sigh from the Marcos patriarch and Baste looked up. He didn't even realize that he had been hanging his head the whole time and staring at the floor  instead of at his boyfriend's father.

 

"You know what, I really wanted to be angry at you. _Gusto ko ng apo ke Sandro eh_ , and I'm sure his mom and his lola want the same. ( I wanted to have grandkids from Sandro)." BongBong was looking at him with an expression that was obviously torn. “But you know, it takes balls to own up to a mistake that wasn’t even yours. You went home to make things right, but someone misinformed my son about the situation, and that wasn’t you.”

 

Baste blinked, his head was in a whirlwind. Did this mean that BongBong was giving him a chance? No no, he didn’t want to hope that easily. But… there was a chance right?

 

Bong Bong sighed again and crossed his arms across his chest. “One chance Sebastian Duterte,” Bong Bong said firmly. “If he as much sheds a tear because of you again, I am issuing a TRO so you can't come near my son or our fam …..”

 

But BongBong wasn’t able to finish his sentence as the doors to the kitchen slammed open and Paolo seemed out of breath as he turned to the senator. “Mr. Marcos, you need to see this,” he said  quickly, urgently.

 

Baste saw his brother's eyes dart towards him and he could see the panic in those eyes. Paolo never panics, what happened that was making him react like this?

 

BongBong frowned. "We're continuing this later," he muttered as he turned on his heel and left the kitchen, with Baste following behind him.

 

When they got back to the dining room, the room was eerily quiet and Baste's father had the whole front page of a local newspaper in his hands, crumpled where he was gripping it tight and a frown on his face.

 

"What happened?" BongBong asked as they got close.

 

Baste went close to his father's side to find out what was going on.

 

Rody looked at BongBong and then looked at his son and then threw the newspaper on the table, making a loud noise that made the current occupants of the table cringe slightly. "One of your informants from the daily paper came running with the draft for tomorrow's headline," he said to BongBong as the latter picked the newspaper up.

Then to Baste, Rody said "This is Manila, not Davao. _Sinabihan na kita na kahit anong gawin mo wag ka lang papasok sa  gulo_! " (I told you so many times, whatever you do, just don't get into trouble!)

 

Baste frowned, not really understanding his father's outburt. He heard a sigh from BongBong "It was only a matter of time," BongBong muttered as he handed the newspaper to Baste.

 

Baste took it and his eyes immediately widened when he saw the headline.

 

**"Sebastian Duterte and Sandro Marcos together?!** " was written in huge bold letters, and a blurry photo of them in Baste's temporary office was dead center on the front page.

 

He whipped his head around to look at Sandro and his lover was looking at him with wide eyes, anxiety and anger clearly expressed on his face as his mother held his hand to keep him calm.

 

" _Kelan to_?" (When was this?) came BongBong's question.

 

Baste took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. "This afternoon," he said, as he tried to keep himself calm. It was just this afternoon, it was unmistakable, those were the clothes they were wearing not too long ago. The photo was taken of them in his office, but there was nobody there, he locked the door and he didn't take any

visitors except....

 

"Oh fuck." he muttered as his brain clicked.

 

Tima. Raffy Tima had been there earlier. He must have found a way to sneak a photo. Also, he was wary of that guy, after that issue of his father saying inappropriate things to Mariz Umali, Tima's wife. He found it fishy that he was there in Malacanang. Maybe he had been digging around for dirt, and he found it, that bastard.

 

"You know who did this?" BongBong asked quickly when he heard Baste's curse.

 

Baste nodded and he turned to his own father. "Remember that lady reporter you made fun of during the press con in Davao? Well her husband was in Malacanang today, looking for you."

 

Rody rolled his eyes. "I didn't make fun of Mariz, it was a joke. People from Manila can't take a fucking joke."

 

Baste sighed. "It didn't sound like a joke dad."

 

"So you think this is her husband's way of getting back to your father?" BongBong asked.

 

Baste nodded readily. "That's a big possibility. He was probably in Malacanang looking for dirt on dad. He wanted to interview me actually. But I didn't let him, so that's why maybe he stuck around if he could get anything on us. Sandro being there must have alerted him that he could get a good story out of this."

 

"But Raffy and Mariz, they're such good journalists. I actually really respect them both, why would he have to result to such sensational journalism?" It was the first time Sandro had spoken since BongBong and Baste had come back from the kitchen.

 

"People who are driven by blind passion usually don't have reason on their side," BongBong said. "That goes for the two of you as well. You see what your actions can do? You can jeopardize your father's presidency, jeopardize your futures, the both of you."

 

Baste took a deep breath. Passions indeed. He had let his guard down, and he thought he was being careful. But receiving those cookies and knowing Sandro had made them for him despite his lack of knowledge in the kitchen just made him lose sight of reason.

 

"For now, we need to find a way to keep this story from getting out," Rody said as he crossed his arms across his chest. "If this gets out, the media will bite and you both will have no peace of mind. I don't care what that does to my presidency, I already declared my support for the LGBT. It's your futures we need to protect," he muttered.

 

"It's only 8 pm, so this must be a first draft," Paolo said as he leaned in and looked at the newspaper on the dining table. "There will be revisions and then a second and third draft before they start mass printing for tomorrow's issue. That means..." Paolo checked his wristwatch, and then continued, "We have around two hours before this goes into mass production."

 

Baste's reaction was quick. Two hours was not a lot of time and he didn't want to risk having this information leaked out. He had already turned on his heel and was three steps away from the table when he heard a firm, " _Saan ka pupunta_?" (Where are you going?) from BongBong.

 

"I'm going to have a chat with Raffy Tima," he growled lowly in response.

 

"And risk you beating him up in your anger and making the matters worse by givin him the leverage to file a case against you? I don't think so," BongBong Marcos said with a sigh. "Rody, he's really your son isn't he?" he muttered. "Leave Raffy Tima to me. I suggest you and Sandro go to the editor-in-chief of this newspaper. _Kilala ko ung may ari_ (I know the owner), and they know my son. If this gets to them, they would never let a story like this be published."

 

Rody sighed. "I was looking forward to dinner pa naman. I guess we have to reschedule. _Ano Paolo, samahan mo kapatid mo_ ," (Paolo, go with your brother).

 

But BongBong shook his head. "Let Paolo come with me. Sandro can take care of that front. He's worked with him before. You can do this without my help right Sandro?" he asked his son.

 

 

Sandro nodded and stood up from his chair. "Yes dad, I should be able to. It's my own name that I have to protect, as well as my boyfriend's."

 

Baste, despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the tension that came with this situation, couldn't help but feel his heart flutter at that. Boyfriend. It felt nice to hear that word from Sandro.

 

But this Sandro seemed to be a different man from the one Baste was used to. He stood from his seat and made his way to Baste, quickly and smoothly taking his hand in his and led him out of the dining room without any pause. "Sandro ... are you ok?" Baste asked, worried that his lover was upset with him. They've only been together for a few hours and already all these problems were popping up like mushrooms.

 

"I respected him, him and his wife. I respected what they do and what they stand for, and they do this to us?" Sandro said lowly, and Baste felt surprised. He had never seen Sandro angry. He had seen him devastated, and drunk angry, but he had never seen him angry at anything or anyone else at this level before.

 

"You believe in someone, you believe in something and in the end you get betrayed like this," Sandro continued to mutter.

 

"Sands..."

 

"I'm so stupid, thinking that I can believe in journalists like that. Dad already warned me about being too friendly with them and yet here I am still trying to play the charming card and actually talking to his wife, and..."

 

"Sandro!"

 

Sandro blinked as he was stopped from moving forward. Baste had stopped walking just before they reached the main entrance of the Marcos home and forced Sandro to stop with him.

 

" _Ganun ka pala magalit, wala ka na naririnig_ ," (So that's how you get angry, you can't hear anything around you anymore) Baste said as he squeezed his hand. "Let's trust your dad on this one, and I trust that you know what to do with the editor. It was my slip of judgment that caused all this, and I got you in trouble twice in the same day."

 

Sandro turned around to face him and Baste saw his Sandro again, his beautiful sweet Sandro, and he was glad he had snapped him out of his angry daze earlier. "I'm not angry, I just feel betrayed," he murmured as he pouted slightly. "I trusted Raffy."

 

"You definitely looked angry to me," Baste said quickly as he pulled him close for a quick hug. "We'll get through this ok?"

 

Sandro nodded and squeezed him back. But the hug didn't last long. "We don't have much time. Let's go."

 

Baste nodded as well and they both made their way to the car.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter took a while because I couldn't decide how I wanted them to deal with the media issue. It took a while to think about and I chose the path that would lead to a more interesting future arc. I would have wanted to see Baste angry and all but isn't seeing a serious and angry Sandro a nice change? Oh and I also wanted the Marcoses to use their connections, that's why I'm involving the parents on this one :3 
> 
> Also the talk with BBM was short because I imagine both him and Baste are men who go straight to the point. 
> 
> Finally I think Raffy Tima is an excellent reporter and I respect him and his wife. Everything I've written is for plot purposes only and is not a reflection of the real person and his ideals.


	16. Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for being away for so long! Real life has been dealing so much stress - I resigned from my current job, looking for a new one, looking for a new place, and have two costumes to make - all in July. I’ve also been getting sick way too often for this to be normal. So I am terribly sorry for the delays.
> 
> Updates will be few and far in between, maybe once a week. BUT I will not abandon this story. The plot is complete until the very end so I just need everyone to bear with me a little bit.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who follows this fanfiction <3

 

 

Connections

  
  


The editor-in-chief turned out to be a close friend of Sandro's, he wasn’t just someone Sandro “worked” with once as Bongbong had said earlier. 

 

It also turns out that the first draft that they received from the informant was something that hadn't reached the editor-in-chief's desk yet. He would have stopped it if he had seen it, according to him. So in the end there was really no need to worry about the whole thing.

 

"There was a need, needed to fortify our connections," Sandro said in the car as soon as Baste voiced out his opinion that coming here and panicking had been a waste of time and energy.

 

"You remind me of your father when you go into your serious "business mode", " Baste joked to lighten the atmosphere as he closed the door and leaned back on the leather seat. It was the first time he had seen Sandro so serious. 

 

His lover had been smiling  as they entered the office but Baste could tell that his smile was strained and that it didn’t reach his eyes. Sandro had been all business, and despite his smaller stature compared to Baste, he had seemed bigger during the quick meeting. Baste, despite his wrath about what happened, had to take a step back and let Sandro handle everything. Perhaps it was the Marcos blood that ran through his veins, but Sandro was a force to be reckoned with when he was serious. 

 

Right now, Baste needed to joke, needed to make a light comment, the stress of the evening was wearing him thin. First it was Bongbong finding out about him and Sandro in the most embarrassing of ways,  and then this whole issue with Raffy Tima and his article. 

 

"I don't think I've ever seen you in that mode ever."

 

Sandro, who got into the car first, was sitting stiffly, but as soon as Baste closed the door, he visibly relaxed. He let out a long sigh and looked sideways at Baste. "I don't want to go into that mode, like ever. I already told you that I didn't want to get into politics. Auntie Imee told me I had the natural talent for it, but it's very tiring. I'd much rather be relaxed and out of the spotlight."

 

To prove his point, he scooted over closer to Baste and pressed his cheek on to his lover's shoulder. "I'd much rather do cuddles than go into politics," he said with a small pout on his lips.

 

“You can combine the two though?” Baste let out a low chuckle and wrapped his arm around his lover's shoulder. "You're pouting again by the way." His Sandro was back. His adorable, sweet, and bratty Sandro was back. The Sandro he saw earlier during the meeting was nowhere in sight, and he preferred it this way. This was a side that Sandro only showed him and his family, and  Baste welcomed it with open arms. 

 

"Am not," Sandro denied and his pout became even more pronounced.

 

Baste chuckled louder and reached out to pinch Sandro's cheek. "I like it, you look cute."

 

"Shut up," Sandro muttered, still pouting, even as a blush spread across his cheeks. His arms wound around Baste's torso and  held on, making the older man smile slightly.  “But I’m glad that was dealt with without any trouble.”

 

Baste nodded. “I still want a word with Raffy one of these days, but your father was right. We both need to calm down before we see him so we don’t get into anymore trouble than we’re already in.”

 

Sandro nodded too. “I still really look up to him, and I really don’t think he would have done this just out of spite for your dad….” He worried his lower lip as he was lost in thought.

 

“Shhh… I can hear you thinking,” Baste teased softly. 

 

“Sorry can’t help it,” Sandro said as he snuggled closer. 

 

They both sat in relative silence for a while until Sandro decided to change the subject. "So... did dad get mad at you?" he asked softly, voice almost inaudible over the whirring of the air conditioner unit of the car.

 

Baste unconsciously tightened his hold on Sandro's shoulder. Bongbong didn’t like him for Sandro, he had agreed to give him a chance, but with this new issue of them getting caught by the media in Baste’s office nonetheless, he wondered if is last chance was already gone? Also, tonight was stressful enough for Sandro, he didn’t need his boyfriend to be stuck having to choose between his dad and his lover, but he didn’t want to lie to Sandro. So he didn’t really have a choice. 

 

"He doesn't really like me.... and he thinks I will only make you cry."

 

Sandro’s head snapped back and stared at Baste with wide shocked eyes. "But...!"

 

"Shhh, let me speak first," Baste said gently, trying to calm his lover down. "I did make you cry, remember? That wasn't my intention but I did. It was because of me that you were so distraught for three days, so much that you didn't even bother to go home."

 

Sandro let out a soft annoyed sound. "That wasn't your fault... someone just made it seem like you were leaving me." If possible Sandro's pout became bigger. "Once I find out who did this..."

 

"Sandro, babe," Baste said gently as he pressed a kiss onto Sandro's head. "Shhh... don't be so angry. I'm angry too but worrying about it like this won't help solve anything."

 

"But we need to find out who did it..."

 

Now Sandro’s brows were furrowed and Baste leaned in to press a kiss in between them, hoping to make it disappear. 

 

"We do, we definitely do. But I don't want you overthinking and worrying over things that are not going to be solved with the snap of a finger," Baste said gently as his thumb gently drew circles on Sandro's shoulder, continuing to attempt at calming the younger man down a little. "We will find out who did it, together, ok? Don't stress yourself out over something that we cannot solve by blindly thinking about it. We need to find clues first.”

 

Sandro was silent after that again and then slowly nodded his head, but his grip on Baste's torso tightened just slightly. 

 

"Good boy," Baste said gently as he squeezed his lover’s  shoulder once more. "I don't want to get you into any more trouble than I already have."

 

"I don't mind the trouble you get me into," Sandro mumbled softly."I'd willingly get in trouble for you."

 

"Don't say that, you make me sound like a terrible influence." The mood had shifted and Baste was thankful that it did. 

 

Sandro's pout quivered slightly, a smile threatening to replace it. "Well... aren't you?"

 

"Hey..." Baste smirked and leaned down to press a kiss onto Sandro's forehead, and then moved lower down to his cheek, and he delighted at the sight of the blush that was starting to form on Sandro's cheeks. "Bad influence?  _ eh gusto mo naman _ ." (But you like it) 

 

"Did I say I didn't like it?" Sandro retorted. His blush deepened the closer Baste got to his lips. 

 

" _ Kelan ka pa natuto sumagot _ ?" Baste chuckled as he teasingly pressed his lips on the corner of Sandro's lips. (When did you learn to talk back like that?)

 

The younger man tilted his head slightly, perhaps hoping to catch the the other, but Baste had moved his head back to keep his lips out of reach, earning him a frustrated whine from Sandro.

 

"If you have to know,  _ sumasagot talaga ako _ ," Sandro murmured as he tried moving forward again to capture Baste's lips. "Daddy  _ naman eh _ ...." he whined as Baste  kept his lips just out of reach.

(I have always talked back. ) 

 

Baste smirked even wider, that word always got to him and Sandro knew it. Sandro was baiting him in, playing this game. It meant that Sandro was in a more relaxed, if not more playful mood. Either of those was a better alternative to the somber air they had about them earlier. 

 

A soft cough interrupted the flirtatious back and forth they had and they both turned towards the source of the voice. 

 

The chauffeur kept his eyes on the road, but when he spoke, he addressed them both. " _ Sir Baste, sir Sandro, suggestion lang po. Baka po next time puwede tayo mag lagay ng harang sa gitna ng harapan at likuran ng kotse. Para sa privacy nyo po sir. _ "

(Sir Baste, Sir Sandro, just a humble suggestion. Maybe next time we can put a partition to separate the front and back seats of the car for your privacy.)

 

Baste barked out a laugh. " _ Nako _ sorry, we got carried away," he said as he scratched the back of his head in an embarrassed manner. They were just caught earlier and now they were doing it again. However, his men have already done a background check on this chauffeur and he checked out. He also had inside information that the Marcoses treated him as a part of their family since he has been with the family even before Sandro was born. 

 

He  turned back to his lover and he couldn't help but laugh louder as he was greeted by the adorable sight of Sandro's all red face. He looked like a ripe tomato and it looked infinitely adorable as Sandro opened his lips again and again with no sound coming out. 

 

"Cat got your tongue?" Baste teased him and Sandro quickly shot him a sharp glare. 

 

"Shut up Baste!" Sandro's words didn't hold any ferocity to them as he tried to salvage whatever dignity it was he had left in front of his family chauffeur.

 

" _ Nahihiya ka? Nasaan na ung palasagot kong Sandro kanina _ ?" Baste continued to tease. 

(Are you embarrassed? Where was my Sandro who kept talking back earlier?)

 

"Stop it!" Sandro grumbled as he planted his hands on Baste's chest and pushed. He was obviously weaker because his lover did not budge an inch. He pushed again and Baste let out a pleased rumble. "Now you're obviously teasing me, get off!" the younger man growled, or at least attempted to growl at Baste, because it came out sounding more like a squeak. With his red cheeks and wide eyes and weak pushes, he looked more like an adorable kitten trying in vain to fight off a large bear that was toying with it. 

 

But Baste wasn't mean spirited. He slid off his lover after a few more failed attempts to get him off and settled for pinching Sandro's cheek. "Cute mo kahit nagagalit ka."

(You’re cute even when you’re mad.)

 

"Don't touch me!" Sandro grumbled as he tried to slap Baste's hand away. 

 

"Sir," the chauffeur spoke again and Sandro let out a surprised squeak. 

 

"Don't hold back on my account. You and Sir Baste deserve at least some time to relax after all that happened. I just don't want to intrude on your privacy,  _ kaya ko naisip na isuggest yung harang." _

(That’s why I suggested the partition.)

 

"We won't do it again," Sandro said quickly. "That was so embarrassing and inappropriate, I'm so sorry Kuya."

 

The elderly chauffeur chuckled softly and put the car to a stop as they approached a red light. He looked at the rear view mirror so he could see his boss's son behind him. "Sir, I drove your mom to the hospital when she gave birth to you. I've seen you grow up, and I feel like you're a nephew or a son of mine, so I don't really mind what you do as long as you are happy."

 

Baste smiled and slowly took Sandro's hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Sandro’s hand was trembling gently, but it wasn’t from panic or embarrassment anymore. It made Baste feel warm as he saw a small smile spread across Sandro’s lips as the younger intertwined their fingers together. “Thank you kuya,” the young Marcos heir said to his chauffeur. 

  
  


*

 

Later that night, the front door to the Marcos house opened and in came an obviously tired Bongbong Marcos. The “talk” with that news reporter had taken longer than he had thought. Earlier, he had already sent Paolo back to tell his father that it was alright and that everything was alright. He didn’t want Rody to wait while he ironed out all the ends with Raffy. 

 

So imagine his surprise when he found the Duterte patriarch still seated in his living room, a bowl of peanuts in his hand and a glass of water on the side table. 

 

“I thought I told Paolo to tell you that everything was alright?” Bongbong said as he walked into the living room. 

 

“He did, I sent him home first,” Rody said as he put his bowl  of peanuts aside and wiped his hands together to get rid of the crumbs. “Your talk ended later than I thought.”

 

“There were a lot of loose ends to tie up,” Bongbong said as he sat down on the sofa across Rody. “Since you’re still here, I’m assuming that you still want to talk about other issues?”

 

Rody chuckled. “Straight to the point. Just like your old man.”

 

“I am my father’s son,” Bongbong reminded him. “So what did you want to talk about?” 

 

Rody shrugged. “It should be obvious.” 

 

“If it’s about Baste and Sandro…”

 

“I don’t want to cause trouble for the Marcos family,” Rody interjected.

 

Bongbong laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Your father used to serve under my father. But this time, our positions are reversed. You’re the president of this country, and I am a mere senator whose term is ending soon. If anything, the trouble it would cause your family would be greater than the trouble caused to mine.”

 

“Where we are right now doesn’t really matter,” Rody said. 

 

“I already said what I wanted to say to Baste. Your son has hurt my boy, and I gave him one chance.”

 

“One chance that he has already blown because of what happened tonight.” Rody sighed and stood up, dusting imaginary dust from his pants. “If you want to keep Baste away from Sandro, just say the word.”

 

“You don’t need to do anything,” Bongbong said as he stood up as well. “I doubt your son is the type to listen when he sets his mind to something. It is my son that is easier to sway.” He walked up to Rody and reached out to shake the Duterte patriarch’s hand. “I’ll do what I need to do to protect my son.”

 

“As will I,” Rody said as he shook the offered hand. 

 

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the lovely Izajena, that scene with kuya driver is dedicated to you. Thank you for coming to meet me in Tokyo and inspiring me with your beautiful art <3


	17. Official Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandro goes to England to get his diploma, but why is his family tagging along? And why won't his father tell him anything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! RL is super crazy right now. But I just can't leave my OTP alone ^^ This chapter will feel different, I took some liberties here. Hopefully you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :3

Chapter 17

 

Official Business

 

With a new president in office and a new cabinet sworn in, the Philippines was off to a fresh new start. Of course, as with any new ruling power in office, there has to be an adjustment period for the people as well as the government offices while new policies are ironed out.  For most departments, new policies are placed in order and old ones are scrapped.

 

This is especially true with the Duterte administration. The first president from the South, whose ways were crass and straight to the point, and whose iron fist rule did not sit too well with the people of the north where the capital was located. He was new, he was fresh, and his way of doing things did not ease into the familiarity that the Northerners were used to with every government turnover.

 

No one could deny the efficiency of his iron rule. Drug dealers, pushers, and drug lords fell one by one at his hand.In three months he and his new cabinet have dealt with more than half of the drug lords in the whole country. The eradication was as swift as if was effective.

 

There was, however, one hiccup. People didn't like how the new president did it. Death tolls for drug dealers and pushers were on the rise. Despite there not being any connection between the president and these killings, people linked them together.

 

Humanitarians were rising up in protest. The new president didn't really care much. His image was not his concern. He did not care if people hated him as long as he made the Philippines drug free again. His only concern was his country, and he could care less what other people thought about him.

 

The problem was that the voice of protest had reached other shores. Some of the Philippines' greatest allies were starting to hound the administration for the excessive use of force when dealing with drug dealers. Although the president didn't care what those other countries thought, his cabinet, the senate, and congress didn't think the same. They had to find a solution before all their greatest allies left them for humanitarian reasons.

 

*

 

Sandro was in a good mood the past few weeks, so good that his brothers avoided him

at random times of the day because he would talk non-stop about how wonderful his new boyfriend was. He would keep talking and talking, and at first it was ok with his brothers, but soon it was the same story repeated every single day.

 

It got tiring way too fast.

 

They also prayed for the sanity of their brother's lover. He would have to deal with a lifetime of Sandro’s talking.

 

The past few days were no different. Sandro had come to the UK to get his official diploma. But his family had tagged along, for reasons he did not know. It didn't really matter, because at least he had someone to talk to about Baste.

 

He kind of hated that they dragged him to this fancy hotel to stay for the few days. He much preferred his old apartment when he was a student here and the landlady was nice enough to give him a few days. His father hadn't allowed it in the end and he had to go along with everyone and stay in this hotel. His reasons Sandro didn’t really understand, but he assumed that it was because his dad wanted everyone to stay together.

 

Much to Sandro’s dismay however, since they arrived, everyone seemed to be busy with something, not knowing that his brothers were just avoiding him to avoid having another earful of how perfect Baste Duterte was.

 

So today, like the past three days since they arrived and since he had finished his business with his university,  Sandro holed himself up in his room and took out his cellphone. 

 

He pressed a number and the phone speed dialed Baste's phone. It rang for a few times and then it was cut off from Baste’s side.

 

Sandro pulled the phone back and pouted.Baste rarely dropped his call. "Too busy that you can't even pick up your phone?" he quickly texted.

 

Then he waited.

 

And waited.

 

And waited.

 

Five minutes later, he got tired of waiting and sent another text message. "Baste Duterte, if you don't text back, I will go to wherever you are. Right. This. Minute."

 

It took a few more minutes after that for Baste's response to arrive. The phone vibrated again and a quick "We just talked thirty minutes ago," was sent back to him.

 

Sandro growled and smashed his fingers on to his screen to type out his response. "It has BEEN thirty minutes. I miss you. If you don't miss me then I hate you Baste Duterte!"

 

There was a long pause. One moment he was happy and then the other, upset.

 

Why he was so sensitive when it came to Baste Duterte, he really wasn't sure. Baste just had that kind of effect on him. He loved him, and he loved all the responses he got from the normally passive and laid back man. He loved making him smile as much as he loved riling him up. He usually wasn't that kind of person, but Baste was an exception. He loved the man, so so much, so who could blame him if he wanted to see and talk to him every minute of every waking day?

 

He didn't know how long it took, but soon there was a response on his phone again.

 

"Loves, _mahal plane ticket_. I'll call you as soon as my meeting is over ok? Love you."

(Flight tickets are expensive.)

 

Ah so he had a meeting, that made sense. Sandro had to imagine that it was an important meeting since Baste didn't even give him any details. He really was a Duterte, because he wasn't sharing any information even to his own lover.

 

"And here I thought I was special," Sandro mumbled as he cradled his phone in his hands. The days here in London were long and cold. He was done with his business here already but he had to stay a few more days because his dad wouldn’t let him go home. Why his dad had insisted that the whole family come to London with him was all strange for Sandro.  He was used to coming here on his own, and he wasn't used to staying in a hotel room instead of his old flat.

 

He also didn’t like that he didn’t know what was going on.

 

"I'm bored and I wanna go home!!!" he grumbled with a pout.

 

"You just have to hold out a bit longer kuya," his brother, Vin, said as he poked his head through the door and smiled at his older brother. "Dad's back, he said you have to get changed."

 

"It's cold and I miss my boyfriend," Sandro mumbled and grabbed his blanket to wrap around himself to make a blanket cocoon.

 

His younger brother visibly rolled his eyes and walked in to tug on the new blanket cocoon Sandro had made. " _Kuya_ , you don't want dad coming into your hotel room."

 

"Why did you all have to come along? I'm only here to get my papers. I got them, I'm done, I wanna go home."

 

" _Kuya_ ," his younger brother sighed and tugged on the blanket again, earning him a whine from Sandro. The younger brother rolled his eyes again and began tugging on the blanket with renewed force." _Kuya_ , really, dad looked like he was in a hurry. Please cooperate? I don't wanna see dad mad, and you don't want to see that either."

 

"I don't...but I also want to go home..." Sandro whined from inside his blanket cocoon.

 

 _"Kuyaaaaaa,_ please," Vin said, pleading with his older brother.

 

Sandro was silent for a while as his younger brother continued shaking his blanket cocoon. And it took a few more tugs from his brother before the older sibling finally unwrapped himself and glared at his younger brother. "Did dad say where we were going?" he asked as he finally moved, dragging his feet across the room to the dresser. "Because you're all dressed up, and you never dress up, so I can tell we're going somewhere fancy."

 

Even in his tantrum, he did not miss the combed down hair of his brother. He also didn't miss the formal wear, the buttoned up shirt that was closed all the way to the top, with a small tie. He didn't miss the black vest, or the black dress pants his brother was wearing.

 

"You don't dress up unless Dad is bringing us to meet his guests, and it's usually a fancy place," Sandro muttered as he threw open the dresser and fished out his most toned down suit jacket. He didn't pack a lot of formal wear since he had no idea about his father's plans. He actually didn't pack a lot because he was only aiming to stay here a few days and then head on back home to Manila to see his boyfriend.

 

Sandro was a picky dresser so he usually packed a lot, two luggages for a two night stay was his norm. This time, he wanted to go back home as soon as he could, so he packed only his bare essentials. His mom had raised an eyebrow when she saw the size and number of his luggage – one small carry on for his four day trip to London.

 

He didn't have a lot of clothes, which made choosing what to wear all the easier. His dad was lucky that he even considered bringing a suit jacket with him. Just one. It was not his best, as he had only considered bringing it to keep him warm in case it got chilly in London. But it would have to do.

 

“Whatever it is, let’s get it over with so I can go home,” Sandro muttered as he closed his dresser and proceeded to change.

 

**

 

Baste rejected the call from his boyfriend and put the cellphone back into his pocket. Why was it today that Sandro had to be clingy? There were days that he was not, and he had been behaving properly for the past three days that he had been in London.

 

Properly for Sandro meant quiet. Not total silence because that meant something was wrong and he wasn't telling Baste, and if Baste didn't realize anything he would be subject to a long loud lecture over the phone. That would be worse.

 

Quiet for Sandro was when he was being sweet and cute. He would send a few texts here and there, saying I love you once in a while, and not demand too much of Baste’s time.

 

For the past few days since his flight to London, he had been sending Baste a few texts goodnight and I love you’s and they were short and sweet and Baste loved them.

 

He didn't expect Sandro to go back to being his clingy demanding self on the 4th day. He still loved him, despite being so demanding. It was also a cute side to him. It just wasn’ t the right timing at the moment.

 

"Baste, we traced the number sir," Dela Rosa's voice broke him out of his thoughts.

 

"Already? That was fast. Are you sure it's the right number?" Baste asked, refocusing his thoughts on the task at hand. He looked at the tracing equipment the PNP had attached to the cellphone that they had taken from Raffy Tima.

 

Raffy had been cooperative when Baste had gone to talk to him. He had no idea what tactics Bongbong had used. Whatever they were, they were effective. Raffy didn't have to be pressed. He had given Baste information willingly and freely.

 

He gave information about how he had been tipped off by this anonymous caller on his phone. He had been told to get information on Baste as a way to get back to Rody. It was also the same caller who had convinced him to write and publish the story about Baste and Sandro.

 

He didn't know who the caller was, nor did he have any idea how he knew about Baste and Sandro. But he was convinced it was someone who knew either Baste or Sandro well enough to know the goings on behind what the media share with the public. It had to be someone close to either or both of their families.

 

Baste didn't want to mistrust anyone on his end but someone betraying their family would not be impossible especially now that his father was president. Having more enemies was as natural as having more allies at this point.

 

That is why he kept the issue of tracing Raffy’s phone hushed, even from his father, and from Sandro. He took the opportunity for the sudden leave his lover had to take for England to take care of this his way. With Sandro gone, he could move easier.

 

He had taken Raffy’s phone, and consulted the one person he and his father both trusted more than anyone else.

 

"Where did the call come from?" Baste pressed.

 

Dela Rosa looked slightly pained but he steeled himself and said, "General Santos."

 

Baste's eyes widened slightly. Gen San?  That city was close to Davao. Was it someone they knew? Was it someone who hated his family? It was too far from the Marcoses to have any connection to them. So it had to be connected to Baste's side.

 

He could feel his hand curl into a fist at his side and he had to take a few deep breaths to keep himself calm.

 

"What are your orders?" Dela Rosa asked softly. He knew Baste, and knew that even in his silence, the younger Duterte was seething inside.

 

"Do you even have to ask?" Baste grumbled. "Find him. Smoke him out. But leave him to me. I want to be the one to take him out."

 

Dela Rosa seemed to hesitate, but he steeled himself and spoke again. "Baste, word of advise _lang. Anak ka na ng presidente, alam kong galit ka, pero di mo sya puwede puruhan_." (Baste, just a word of advice. You're now the son of the president, I know you're angry but you can't just go and kill him.)

 

 

"I know that..." Baste growled lowly.

 

He took a few more deep breaths and fished out his phone. He quickly scrolled through Sandro's angry but adorable text messages and he could feel his anger abate slightly.

 

"Loves, _mahal plane ticke_ t. I'll call you as soon as my meeting is over ok? Love you." he quickly typed and pocketed his phone. As soon as he looked up, he saw that Dela Rosa was smirking slightly at him. “What?”

 

The new PNP chief shook his head. "He must really mean a lot to you, you should see the way you smile when you read his text messages. Now I'm curious as to what he texted you."

 

Baste raised an eyebrow and took out his phone again. He unlocked it and showed the message to Dela Rosa. The older man read it and then laughed out loud.

 

"He said he hated me for not responding to a text, even if we just spoke thirty minutes ago."

 

"That's what makes this even more impressive. He fights with you but the smile on your face ….I think you only made the same face when you held your newborn son and newborn daughter for the first time."

 

Baste raised an eyebrow. "So... you're saying that i adopted a new son?"

 

Dela Rosa laughed again, his laughter echoing around the small room.

 

Sandro, even when he wasn't there physically, had the power to dispel any tension that involved Baste.

 

 

*

 

Sandro felt weird. His mom and siblings had gone ahead, and he was left with his dad. His dad was wearing his barong tagalog. He usually only wore it outside the country if he was on official business. For other formal occasions he would wear his suit or a tux. Why was he wearing a barong, and why did he bring along Sandro?

 

His mom and brothers had gone ahead, according to his dad. And whenever Sandro asked where they went, his dad kept giving him vague answers.

 

Even when they reached their destination Sandro still had no idea where they were. They were in a part of London that he did not frequent when he was still a student here.

 

"Dad, what are you not telling me?" Sandro finally asked as they stepped out of the cab and made their way inside the simple looking apartment. That Bongbong had a key to the door made it even more suspicious.

 

It looked simple on the outside, but once they stepped inside, Sandro knew that it was far from a simple apartment.

 

As soon as the door closed, the strong scent of pine and fresh wood flooded Sandro's senses. The interior of the apartment had been fitted with wooden flooring and wooden walls. He knew, from experience that this wasn't cheap wood either. It wouldn't stand the test of time in London weather if it was cheap.

 

Sandro's eyes scanned the walls and then his eyes settled on the living room in front of them. Yes, this place was far from simple. The walls were decorated with paintings, some antiques that Sandro knew would cost a fortune. The couch looked custom made, old, but custom. The swarovski crystal fixtures and carvings on the center table were also a dead giveaway that this was not a common apartment they had entered.

 

Something was up and his father was in on it and not telling him anything.

 

"You'll find out soon enough," Bongbong said, without giving away anything, and led his son into the living room.

 

"You're not usually this cryptic dad," Sandro muttered as he followed his dad to the couch, lips jutted out in a small annoyed pout and arms across his chest.

 

"And you're usually not this bratty."

 

Sandro's eyes widened at the sound of that voice. He knew that voice, but he hadn’t heard that in years.

 

He was suddenly on his feet and he turned towards the source of the voice. A familiar figure was standing by the doorway that connected to the living room. The man had on a simple suit, dark blue instead of black. He had a narrow tie, and a pair of sleek dress pants. His blonde hair reached slightly below his chin and was held back by a loose ponytail, and his deep blue eyes sparkled at the sight of Sandro. But it was that small mole by the side of his lip, and that all knowing smirk, that playful smirk that gave away who he was. 

 

"William?!"

 

The tall British man smiled as the Marcos heir got up and walked towards him. "In the flesh," he said with a smooth flourish.

 

"I haven't seen you in YEARS!" Sandro exclaimed as he quickly closed the distance between them and then pulled the other man close for a tight hug. "How have you been?!"

 

William returned the hug and laughed as he looked down at Sandro. "I’ve been good. But you haven't been growing have you?"

 

"Shut up wise ass," Sandro chuckled as he playfully punched his friend's chest. "I was taller than you when I first moved here remember?"

 

Sandro felt his heart swell. He hadn't seen William in years! Being the son of the Ambassador of the UK to the Philippines made William very interested in Philippine culture and history. So when Sandro moved to London, and they met in the same class, they became instant friends.

 

But also because of his father's work, William rarely stayed in one place for too long. He usually moved around a lot and Sandro couldn't remember when was the last time they actually had the time to exchange more than just hellos.

 

"Puberty hasn't been kind to you then," William continued to tease and only stopped when Bongbong cleared his throat behind them.  "But you look good," William quickly added as he pulled away from Sandro.

He then turned to Bongbong, "Mr. Marcos, how have you been sir?" he asked, offering his hand.

 

Bongbong shook his hand and smiled warmly at him. "I'm great. Lost the election, but I still have my health and I’m fit as a bull."

 

"And I'm glad you still have your sense of humor," William said as he smiled at the older man. He took a step back and looked at both Bongbong and Sandro. "So what brought you two here?"

 

Bongbong smiled and gestured to Sandro. "When President Duterte heard that your father was rushed to the hospital, he quickly told me to come to England. It's not my official job, but I knew your father personally so the president thought it was a good idea for me to come. I'll be going to see your dad for an official visit. My wife and other sons are already there at the hospital. I just thought you and Sandro have some catching up to do, that's why I brought him here."

 

"So this is a casual visit, not an official one?" William asked while Sandro still looked lost. Sandro obviously had no idea what was going on.

 

"Oh no, Sandro is here officially too."

 

"I'm what?" Sandro asked, really lost in the conversation between his father and friend. "And did you say uncle Bob is in the hospital? What's going on?"

 

William just chuckled in response. "Then I guess I should reintroduce myself," he said as he extended his hand to Sandro again. "William Kent, Interim Ambassador to the Philippines. Welcome to London Mr Marcos."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N the current ambassador to the Philippines is Mr. Asif Ahmad, and he has been the ambassador since 2012. But for plot purposes I am making up a fake ambassador and his corresponding family  ^^ Also I know that ambassador positions aren't passed from father to son, there should be another successor. But, again, for plot purposes, here he is ^^ 
> 
> I hope you like the new OC! :3  
>  


	18. Blindsided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delays! Full explanation in the end notes.

Chapter 18  
  
Blindsided  


  
  
  
Sandro adjusted his collar just slightly as his father left him in the company of William. He was still lost as to why he was here.  
  
"So... you're the new ambassador?" Sandro asked as William came back into the living room. His father had just left and William had seen him out, and probably helped him hail a cab too.  
  
William chuckled as he went to one of the side tables of the living room to get them both a hot cup of tea. "Not really. Just a stand in until my old man feels better. I did say interim didn't i?"  
  
"You did... but don't they usually  have someone fill in for your dad? I mean, if dad gets sick, I don't think my government will appoint me as interim senator in his place. That's not how governments work last time I checked," Sandro said as he looked at William as the latter poured their tea. "Need help?"  
  
"It was more of an emergency thing. The person who should be next in line is still currently in Bolivia, and he has his hands full at the moment so he couldn't come back to fill in the position," William said as he shook his head to say that he could do this himself and proceeded to calmly pour a cup of tea for the both of them. "Two cubes, as usual right?"  
  
Sandro nodded and watched William put in two cubes of sugar into his tea.  
  
William chuckled as he brought the two cups of tea to the coffee table between the two couches. He sat on the opposite couch, facing Sandro. "I know it does come as a bit of a shock. They gave this position to me for two reasons. One is that there is no one currently trained enough to take dad's position. And two, we haven't been in touch for so long so you wouldn't know, but I've been specializing in Philippine studies and have been helping with my dad's work for a while now. So they thought that I would be the best person to fill in temporarily for dad. I'm vacating the position as soon as dad feels better or as soon as the next person in line is available. "  
  
"Still," Sandro said, crossing his arms. Then he eyed the tea and sighed. "Thanks for the tea."  
  
William chuckled again. "Since when are you so suspicious? Where was my trusting little Alex from the past? I thought you'd be happy, that we could somehow work together? I know you're not active in politics and that you have no desire to be, but hey this gives me a reason to visit your country and vice versa."  
  
Sandro grimaced a bit. He had forgotten. William was one of the few who didn't like using his nickname, and insisted on using Alex instead of Sandro.  
  
"I don't like that nickname, cut it out."  
  
"You used to like it as a kid."  
  
"I did not."  
  
"You preferred it over Ferdi," William reminded him and Sandro responded by scowling.  
  
"Will you please stop giving me strange nicknames? I've only gone by Sandro and that's the only nickname I'm using."  
  
William laughed again. "Fine fine, i'll stop. But hey, you know, I was really hoping that I could see you more often with this new position, even if it was only temporary. So when your dad called to say that the whole family was coming to visit my dad, I got really excited." His laughter died down into a smaller but fonder smile. "I miss hanging out with you."  
  
"I know, I miss hanging out with you too," Sandro said after a moment. He was annoyed about the nickname but he did miss his friend a lot. "But according to dad, this is an official visit. Surprise surprise, he didn't tell me what I was supposed to do here "officially"," he muttered as he took his teacup and sipped his tea.  
  
"So your dad really never told you anything?"  
  
Sandro shook his head.  
  
William sighed and took a sip of his own tea. When he started to speak, his voice took on a more serious tone. "My government isn't very happy with all the recent killings happening in the Philippines. Frankly, I'm very much concerned too. Mr Duterte'S government seems to be very unstable, and relies heavily on vigilante killings to enforce his rule."  
  
"Will." Sandro set his cup down and took a deep breath before speaking. "I am not, under any circumstances, the appropriate person to talk about this."  
  
William raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "This is an official visit by your country to mine, and for this current trip, you have been designated as the official spokesperson for your country I'm afraid."  
  
Sandro could feel his insides coil. What did his father do this time?! His dad sometimes did things behind his back, but all the time, these actions were of a smaller magnitude. This time, he had stepped out of line. Sandro was not trained in this field. He knew William sure, but what the hell did he know about the British and Philippine relationship? He knew only what the media spoke off but even that wasn't a lot. He probably knew more about the trade relations between the Philippines and China or America, but with Britain? Not so much. He knew basically what every other uninformed Filipino citizen knew, close to nothing.  
  
"If this was the action of my father, then I believe it may have been done without sanction from the current government," Sandro said carefully.  
  
Will raised another delicate eyebrow. "It is sanctioned by your government though," he said as he stood up. "Wait for me here," he said and then disappeared into the next room.  
  
Sandro, now left alone, was internally panicking. What the hell was going on?! He shouldn't have let his father drag him here without knowing anything. He usually was more questioning, but this time he just went with it and look where he ended up in?!He wanted to go home, wanted to see Baste so bad already. But he couldn't. If this was official, he couldn't leave until the talks were done. He couldn't leave soon, given the gravity of Will's opening spiel about the Duterte administration. He didn't want to stay, he wanted to go home.  
  
William also sounded convinced that he was sent here officially. All along Sandro thought it was just his dad dumping him here. But was Rody in on this too? If that was the case... why were they doing this? Were they trying to... No no, Sandro didn't think they would go that far. To risk the relationship between Great Britain and the Philippines just to keep him and Baste apart? His father might do that, but Rody wouldn't have.  
  
Would he?  
  
  
Sandro was so confused and he turned to the one person he knew would listen to him, for real, if he had a problem. Baste. But Baste was currently in a meeting so all he could do was send him a text. He pulled out his phone and sent him a text message. "After your meeting, call me please. We need to talk."  
  
Hopefully Baste would understand and hopefully his boyfriend would see that they really had an emergency right now.  
  
It was one thing if your father tried to pull you apart. It was another when your father was a senator and the father of your boyfriend is the president of the country.

  
  
*

  
  
Baste didn't get the text. Right now, he had just landed in General Santos, with the PNP chief in tow.  
  
"Are you sure you won't get scolded for leaving your post? I already said I could handle this alone," BAste asked Dela Rosa as soon as they had gotten off the plain. Neither man had any checked in baggage so they bypassed the luggage area of the airport.    
  
"Your safety is a concern of mine. Besides your father doesn't have to know," Dela Rosa said as he led Baste out of the airport. They were both careful not to get anyone's attention. Dela Rosa had already called ahead to let airport security know that they were here for a potentially dangerous visit and that they needed extra security.  
  
They passed through airport security and Dela Rosa guided Baste out the airport through one of the side entrances for security personnel, avoiding the crowded arrival area of the airport. It wasn't how Baste usually did things, but Dela Rosa insisted, for safety reasons.  
  
Whoever it was they were after apparently had eyes and ears at the airport if they were able to snap a photo of Baste with Kate and his kids the last time the presidential son came home. That was why Dela Rosa didn't want to take chances this time.  
  
He quickly led Baste out the side entrance and straight to a waiting black sedan. Both men were particularly quiet until the doors were closed.  
  
_"Asa ta adto?"_ the man behind the wheel asked. ("Where are we going?)

  
Baste recognized him as one of his dad's old bodyguards when he was still mayor of Davao. He would have preferred to do a more thorough background check of anyone involved in this operation right now but he trusted Dela Rosa and he didn't really have the luxury of time right now.

  
"Dadiangas South as fast as you can," Dela Rosa said with a clipped tone. They didn't have time to waste. They had traced the cellphone used to contact Raffy Tima, but that didn't mean that the person who had it was still holding on to it. They had to be quick if they wanted to catch the person responsible.

  
As the car lurched forward and Baste felt his hands form fists at his side. He wasn't looking forward to this, but at the same time, he wanted to know who it was who was responsible. He didn't want enemies, it was one of the perks of keeping a low key profile. That wasn't an option now that Sandro was involved.

  
Was it worth it?

  
Definitely.

  
The drive was fast, as fast as the man behind the wheel could take them. Baste had his thoughts full of what he would do to the man who had caused his boyfriend so much grief. It was only Dela Rosa's presence beside him that reminded him that he could not do anything too rash.

  
When they reached their destination, Baste felt his heart thudding bard against his chest. It was a small open lot. There was no gate that enclosed the area. But there was a small make shift house at the far end, a shanty of sorts. It didn't look like anyone was living there and Baste had a bad feeling about this. He could feel his blood rushing through his veins. He immediately pushed the car door open, and rushed out of the car, despite Dela Rosa's protests.

  
"Baste _delikado!_ " (Baste it's dangerous!)

  
But Baste ignored the warning and rushed into the empty lot. He heard an exclaimed curse from behind him, most probably from Dela Rosa. But he ignored that too. His feet brought him across the empty lot and towards the shanty at the end.

  
He heard another curse from Dela Rosa as Baste reached the door. But Baste did not wait. He kicked the door open and rushed inside.

  
As soon as the doors opened and Baste saw the inside of the shack, he immediately wanted to smash something with his hands.

  
The shack was empty.

  
It wasn't a clean empty either.

  
The inside of the shack looked like it was trashed, like a result of a robbery gone bad or a terribly executed hit. Tables were overturned, the walls looked scratched, torn documents strewn all over, and the room room smelled like beer and water and spoiled food, most likely making up the mess that was all over the floor.

  
But for all the mess, there was no smell of blood anywhere, no empty bullet casings on the floor either. That much Baste could see even without investigating.

  
" _Naunahan na tayo_ ," (they got here first) Baste heard Dela Rosa's voice behind him and the youngest Duterte son let out a low curse.

  
"How?! We came here as quickly as we could," Baste growled.

  
"Baste," Dela Rosa started, as he put his hand on Baste's shoulder to try and calm him down. "We only found out about his location, the people behind his involvement should know where he lives more than we do."

  
Baste was seething. This was his chance to make things right, to get to the bottom of things, but they were too late. And again, he wasn't able to do anything, not for his father and not for Sandro. He felt so useless.

  
He felt the hand on his shoulder tighten slightly. "Baste, calm down. We'll lose if you lose your cool."  
  
  
  
Baste took a deep breath, the presence of his family's most trusted ally and friend there calming him down in ways no one else could.  He ran his hand through his unruly hair and took another deep breath. And only when his mind started calming down did he finally process what Dela Rosa had said earlier - people behind this mysterious man's involvement. "Do you really think there's a bigger picture to this? Do you really think he wasn't acting alone?"  
  
Dela Rosa looked at Baste and the younger could see the surety in those eyes as Dela Rosa nodded. "Call it a gut feeling. I don't think anyone would have the guts to go dig into things like these on their own. It's too complex, too nitty gritty, and too personal. It may be aimed at your father, or Sandro's, or aimed at you two personally, we cannot know for sure. But whoever they are, and whatever their true intentions are, you and Sandro seem to be their prime target. Given your father's and Sandro's dad's reputations, I don't think anyone will try to do this alone. He must have an ally, a powerful one."  
  
Baste took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. Dela Rosa was right. They weren't even sure if they were the real targets here or if it was just a way to get to their dads. And all they had were assumptions until they could catch the parties involved and get real facts. "So we don't know anything, is what you're saying."  
  
"Unfortunately, yes," Dela Rosa said. He gave Baste's shoulder one last squeeze before letting him go. "We don't know anything yet at the moment but we will know more soon. I'll assign a special team to help you investigate this without your father knowing. He was already pissed off with that issue of Raffy Tima, if he finds out that there may be others involved behind what happened,  he would probably see red."   
  
Baste nodded. He was close to seeing red himsef. They were so close and yet their enemy was one step faster than they were. "Thank you, that would be a big help," he murmured his thanks. Having people help him investigate this and chase down whoever was behind Raffy Tima's involvement would be a great help to him.   
  
Dela Rosa gave him one last nod and then turned around. He pulled out his mobile and started talking to different people, mostly Scene of the Crime opperatives that they could trust to help clean out and investigate this scene, and maybe pick out clues.   
  
Baste watched his retreating back and leaned back against the wall of the empty room. At least maybe, maybe they would be able to find out some clues down here. He clung on to that small hope, as he pulled out his phone. There was just one message and it was from Sandro, it was a message to call him. Just based on text alone, Baste didn't know if he wanted to talk just because he missed him, or if it was anything serious. It was hard to tell with just a text message.   
  
"What are you up to this time?" he wondered out loud as he dialed Sandro's number.   
  
He expected to hear the usual ring on the other end of the line. He wasn't prepared to hear "The line you are trying reach is out of coverage area" no matter how many times he tried to dial his boyfriend's number. 

 

  
*

 

  
"Bong..."  
  
"I've already made my decision Liza."  
  
Sandro's mother tightened her hold on her luggage handle as she tried to reel in her feelings.  "Why are you doing this?"   
  
"It's for our son's own good," was the cold answer from her husband.   
  
"But leaving him alone here in England and even cutting off his phone line?! Bong, even that is too much!" Liza couldn't help raising her voice even if they were in the departure area of Heathrow airport. She didn't care that people looked their way. She didn't care if people recognied them. She cared, that her eldest son was being left behind in England, alone, and without any means of contact with friends and family back home.  
  
"He's not alone. He's with William. Will you stop overreacting already?" Bong Bong asked as he turned to face Liza finally.   
  
Their other two sons were staying quiet, knowing full well not to interrupt an obvious fight between their parents.   
  
"I don't trust that boy! He's like.. he has his own agenda, he barely even listens to his own father, he  ..."  
  
"But you trust Baste?"   
  
Liza glared at her husband and crossed her arms. "I trust Baste," she confirmed.   
  
"You trust a boy who almost destroyed your own son's future and yet you don't trust his childhood best friend? It's the same with your nephew, you don't trust Sandro with him either."  
  
"Paolo has proven time and time again to be a bad influence on our son. Baste is different," Liza insisted. "Bong, please, at least just give him his phone line back? I don't want him to think that we abandoned him here, without any means of contact."  
  
Bong Bong sighed and shook his head. "This is for the best Liza. Best to cut off his connection with Manila for the time being. It's the only way I can protect him."  
  
  
"Is it to protect him or to protect the Marcos name?" Liza challenged.   
  
  
"Both," Bong responded without a second thought. "He has to be protected from his own feelings for that Duterte boy. It's best to nip it at the bud before it becomes something harder to control."   
  
  
"Bong, when you told me that he and Baste were like that...I didn't know how to react either but this is going too far... we're abandoning our son in another country with no means of contact," Liza said, trying to plead with her husband now that she knew sharp words and attitude would not sway him. It was true, at first she thought Baste and SAndro were just really close friends. So when Bong told her about the true nature of their relationship, that they were dating, she had been shocked. But she accepted it, because she thought Baste was good for Sandro. Call it a mother's gut feeling, but she knew Baste was sincere with Sandro.   
  
"This is why I chose to leave him in England. At least he knows this place far better than anywhere else," Bong Bong said as he stood and pulled on his luggage as well. "Come, we have to board our plane."  
  
Liza hung her head as her husband ended the conversation. She had to get in touch with Baste as soon as she could,  to let him know what her husband had done. There was no other person who could help get her son out of here.   
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The past few months have been really really really stressful and jam packed for me. I resigned from my job, moved to a new apartment in a new city, got into an accident and had to be in hospital, flew to Manila for two weeks, and also had 7 cosplays to cram in one month. I am exhausted. But I am hopefully getting a new job this month, and with it I should be able to type more during my breaks and keep the updates more regular again. Thank you all for your patience. I promise I will not abandon this fanfic, I will finish it to the very end :) 
> 
> Again, comments and questions are very much appreciated :3 thank youuuu!

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't beta'd, and was just written on a whim. I hope there aren't so many mistakes. Also, I don't know any of these people personally so I am only assuming in terms of their personality and interactions. Also, again, this is a work of fiction, so please don't take this seriously.


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